Five Times Merlin Got Hurt and One Time He Didn't
by LookingBeyondTheEmbers
Summary: A collection of one-shots that will encase Merlin's misfortune, ending in an injury of some sort. Set early season 2, mostly. This is my first fanfic, reviews are welcome.
1. 1 Training Accident

Five Times Merlin Got Hurt and One Time He Didn't

 **AN:** Hello, everyone! This is the first piece of fanfiction that I have ever written, (although I've read quite a bit, obviously). I am also fairly new to this fandom, I haven't seen anything past the first few episodes of Season 2, so I probably won't include many of the later characters at first because I don't want to accidentally make them seem out of character.

This is going to be a Merlin/Arthur Friendship collection of one-shots, and isn't intended as slash. The rating is T, mostly because I do not wish to mislead anyone. Reviews of any kind are greatly appreciated, because I am a complete rookie at this. That being said, all mistakes are mine. Thank you all so much in advance. Namaste.

I do not own Merlin. All rights go to….someone else. BBC, maybe? Again, not certain who owns it, but it is not I.

1\. Training Accident

Merlin sighed and straightened up once more, ignoring the dull ache in his lower back and the sharper pain in his arms and shoulders. Arthur grinned at him in his trademark _I'm-better-than-you-and-I-know-it_ fashion that irritated Merlin to no end whenever he saw it.

"Come on, Merlin! I need actual competition if I'm to excel in next week's combat tournament," Arthur declared, spinning his sword skillfully in one hand while keeping perfect distance from Merlin's fatigued form.

Merlin bit back a sharp retort that would have earned him a week's worth of mucking out the stables and contented himself with a quiet, "Yes, sire."

Arthur frowned at the lack of energy in Merlin's tone; usually Merlin far outmatched him in their verbal sparring matches. Merlin, for his part, was struggling just to stay upright under the heavy armor he was forced to wear when Arthur demanded these torturous training sessions.

He had been awake until ungodly hours of the night, helping Gaius tend to a man who had suffered a bad head injury, and needed to be woken up every few hours to ensure no further damage had been done to his coherency. And then, just as Merlin had been about to lie down and catch a mere half an hour of sleep, Arthur had woken up early and in the mood for spontaneous training practice in preparation for the kingdom-wide combat tournament Uther had declared. It was little more than an opportunity for the knights to show off to each other, but Arthur had surprised Merlin by throwing himself into it, training as hard as his stubborn will and somewhat reluctant manservant would allow.

Merlin was just getting himself back to his base stance and trying to maintain his weak grip on the sword that seemed unrealistically heavy when a strike came at him with speed far too fast for his tired brain to react to. It connected painfully with the armor on his left shoulder, jarring it with a resounding _clang!_ that made a passing knight wince in sympathy. Arthur, however, shared no such feelings of compassion.

"Merlin! Focus, you idiot! I can't train if you don't react. I may as well go practice with one of the straw dummies; at least they would put up a good fight!" Arthur yelled, trying to snap Merlin out of his stupor enough to spar effectively. Besides, an opportunity to insult his manservant was never wasted.

Merlin barely heard the harsh but half-hearted invectives thrown his way; he was too wrapped up with thoughts of the extensive list of chores Arthur would no doubt assign him once training was finished, along with the help Gaius would need back in the physician's chambers. Merlin felt a twinge of guilt as he thought of his mentor. Gaius had likewise stayed up all night, and must be exhausted, and yet had waved off Merlin's offer of staying to help with the work today while Gaius slept. That offer had been effectively voided when Arthur had woken up early, in a decidedly eager mood to subject his faithful manservant to training before breakfast—cruel and unusual punishment, Merlin reflected.

 _Prat,_ he thought crankily, scowling at Arthur, who immediately smiled again.

"Finally, signs of life! I was beginning to think you'd fall asleep with your eyes open," Arthur teased, resuming his defensive stance.

 _If only_ , Merlin thought sardonically.

Arthur suddenly rushed at Merlin, attacking from the right side, and Merlin quickly spun out of the way, managing to deflect the blow with his sword. Arthur immediately switched direction and struck out with blistering speed. It was all Merlin could do to block the left feint, and he swiftly side-stepped to avoid getting elbowed. Arthur was a knight, and the Crown-Prince of Camelot; however he wasn't above a little dirty fighting, particularly in training, when small abuses and affronts to the rules could be tolerated.

Arthur visibly shifted into full combat mode, and began a barrage of attacks, slipping imperceptibly into an ever-advancing pattern. Hitting low, cutting high, dodging left and spinning right, the speed and force of his strikes would have left any skillful warrior scrambling to deflect them all.

Merlin was all but defenseless. At first, he managed to block many of the strikes, but the constant jarring force of Arthur's blows weakened his arms after a short while, and he found himself tiring rapidly. Arthur remained oblivious to his servant's plight, and continued slashing at Merlin until the raven-haired man's sword dropped from a hand that lacked the strength to hold it any longer.

Arthur glared at Merlin, annoyed that Merlin had not put up a better fight, and was failing to help him effectively train. Merlin was suddenly, incredibly, angry with his master. He had worked all night, and still had to answer to an arrogant young prince who wasn't concerned with anything or anyone, save for his own ego and self-image. The injustice of the situation was made immeasurably worse by its irony; Merlin had little choice in his servitude.

If Merlin had been more alert and his nerves less frayed, he would have immediately revised this thought. Deep down, he knew that Arthur was a good man, maybe even a great one, with loyalty and honor as his guiding principles. Someday he would be a greater King than Uther would ever be, and his name would be echoed throughout the halls of history as the greatest King of Camelot.

At the moment, Merlin was too tired to give a damn about such deep musings and too angry to let the slights go unchallenged.

He launched himself at Arthur, taking the prince by surprise. Arthur, however, reacted quickly, and caught his servant's elbow, pushing him aside and neatly brushing past, sure-footed and confident once more as he carefully gauged Merlin's expression.

Merlin once again rushed at the Prince, not thinking about what he was doing, just trying to catch him off-guard. Only for a moment, just long enough to land a blow on that smug face. The blond prince again easily evaded his attacks, and Merlin lost all patience.

With a frustrated yell, Merlin ran full-tilt at Arthur, cocking back his fist. He punched and hit at Arthur, who blocked every blow aimed at his face, stomach, anywhere that Merlin could reach. He tried to shove Merlin away, but the raven-haired man was too fast for him. Dodging to the left, Merlin punched towards his shoulder, managing to land a glancing but surprisingly painful hit. Arthur felt his own temper rising, and did little to restrain it.

Getting into a fist-fight with his servant was expressly forbidden, and in bad form. If they were caught, the punishment for him would extensive, and Merlin could be put to death. Arthur, however, had no intention whatsoever of informing the King of this altercation, and the training grounds had been nearly empty all morning. As long as no one saw them, this incident would pass unnoticed and the King would never find out.

Merlin's eyes narrowed in concentration, and Arthur felt the first twinge of doubt. Merlin looked serious, and actually angry. Maybe he should call off the fight, and give Merlin the rest of the day off. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked dead tired, only his fury at Arthur keeping him alert and moving. Arthur's moment of indecision allowed Merlin to gain a solid body blow, knocking the wind out of him. That settled it. Tired or not, Merlin had asked for this.

Arthur suddenly straightened up, focusing solely on the fight. Merlin was still too angry to notice the subtle change in posture, the shifted weight and the ready stance. He swung at Arthur, who caught his arm and pulled him off balance, landing a firm hit on Merlin's torso. Merlin, however, wheeled around and aimed a strong punch at Arthur's face. Arthur caught this too, and safely ducked out of the way. His training had kicked in, however, and Arthur was reacting mostly on instinct, drilled into him with long hours of hand-to-hand combat forced on him when he was younger.

Therefore, he hadn't registered that his fist had moved quite so fast and with so much force behind it, until he felt the knuckles hit something soft that yielded with a small cracking noise. He froze, making himself look more fully, scarcely able to believe it. He had punched Merlin squarely in the face, and was in fact, still holding onto his other hand with a vice-like grip.

He instantly released him and stepped back, looking at his friend in shock. Merlin's blue eyes were wide, as he brought a hand to his face, and stared uncomprehendingly at the dark red liquid that covered his fingers and began to stream thickly from his nose.

Arthur just stared at him, disbelief and guilt plainly visible on his handsome features. He hadn't meant to hurt Merlin, certainly not to the extent of causing a heavy nosebleed. He was about to apologize to Merlin when he looked up at Arthur and swayed slightly. The young Prince rushed to his side, helping lower him to the ground in a kneeling position.

"Ow," Merlin said quietly, still staring at the blood on his hand.

"Oh, lords, Merlin," Arthur muttered. "Here, tilt your head down, and pinch there. The bleeding should stop in a few minutes," he instructed Merlin, who silently obeyed, still not looking completely aware of what was happening. Arthur lapsed into silence for a few minutes, trying to give Merlin a chance to recover, and feeling the guilt rush over him in a crushing wave.

"It's just a nosebleed, Merlin. What, do you faint at the sight of blood?" Arthur said, trying to assuage some of the blame he felt and downplay the injury when he noticed that Merlin was still bleeding. Worse, Merlin, didn't look very responsive, was simply sitting with his head slightly bowed, not otherwise moving or even acknowledging that he felt the pain.

As the minutes slowly crept by, Arthur became increasingly concerned as the heavy blood flow continued unabated in a viscous stream that spattered the ground. The young prince came to a decision.

"Alright, we're going to Gaius," he told Merlin, standing and pulling Merlin up beside him. Merlin swayed alarmingly against Arthur's side, causing a sharp spike of worry to run through Arthur. "Merlin?" Arthur asked, still supporting most of his servant's weight. Merlin seemed to stumble finding his feet, but then stood more confidently. "I'm alright, Arthur," Merlin assured him, and it relieved Arthur that Merlin had used his name instead of his title, betraying no resentment towards him, even though it _had_ been his fault.

They began to walk towards the main courtyard, with the physician's chambers in mind as the destination. Merlin walked, stumbling every once in a while, causing Arthur to walk close, ready to offer a steadying hand. They had almost made it to the stone steps leading Gaius' quarters when Merlin suddenly fell. Arthur had been half-expecting it, and caught him before he could hit the ground. He spun Merlin around to look at him, finding that Merlin's eyes had a glassy look, and were half-closed. Blood continued to pour down his face at an alarming rate.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, giving the other man's shoulders a firm shake.

"I'm fine, Arthur. I'm just tired," Merlin said, vaguely aware that his response was too similar to a mumble to carry much weight. Arthur was likewise unimpressed with the veracity of his claim.

He swiftly swung Merlin's right arm around his neck, and supported Merlin with an arm around the thin man's waist. Merlin sagged against Arthur, unable to hold his own weight, head hanging low. Arthur cursed quietly under his breath and dragged Merlin up the stairs and towards the physician's rooms.

They burst through the door, Arthur all but supporting Merlin's near-unconscious form and Gaius looked up from his workbench. He quickly took stock of the situation, assessing Merlin's condition with sharp eyes that noted every detail of his limp body.

"Bring him over here," Gaius ordered, unceremoniously sweeping a pile of papers and books off the nearest cot and onto the floor. He observed with some unease that Merlin seemed only partially aware of his surroundings, and had to be supported to the bed. Setting him down in a sitting position, where he continued to gently sway, Arthur backed away, unconsciously rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, a habit he shared with his father.

"What happened?" Gaius asked calmly, while gently attempting to wipe away the blood from Merlin's face, which remained blank and unfocused through the administrations.

"We were training, and, well, I…. I mean, we…..What I mean to say is that..." Arthur stammered, stumbling haltingly over his words. Gaius, however, understood immediately. Arthur braced himself, expecting a reprimand, or at the very least a disapproving eyebrow raised in his direction. "I see," was all the old healer said.

Arthur looked away, feeling his culpability more keenly than ever. "I was worried when it kept bleeding so heavily after a few minutes," Arthur said hurriedly. "And then when I told him we were coming back, he was so unresponsive…I thought that I might have….you know, I might have…Well, I didn't mean to hurt him!" He exclaimed, unable to stand his own pitiful explanation and Gaius' answering silence any longer.

"Merlin will be fine, Arthur," Gaius said, helping Merlin lie down, nosebleed having finally stopped. Merlin mumbled something incoherently, then his eyes slipped fully closed.

"The bleeding was so bad because of Merlin's state of fatigue. The increased stress on his body increased blood flow, and the exhaustion caused the inability to clot. I can assure you, sire, that after a good night's sleep, Merlin will be fine. Hopefully, so will I," he finished, pulling himself painfully upright, acutely aware of how much his old joints and bones complained at his lack of rest.

"Wait, fatigue? Did Merlin not sleep well?" Arthur asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Merlin was up with me all last night, tending to Quinn, the farrier who tends to the royal horses. He suffered a nasty blow to the head last night, and needed to be looked after. I thought he would have taken today off, to be completely honest," Gaius said, looking bluntly at Arthur.

Arthur could only sit in puzzlement. Why hadn't Merlin told him that he hadn't slept? Arthur would have given him the day off. Despite the rumors, Arthur actually tried to pay attention to his servants and staff, instinctively understanding that it was his responsibility as royalty to look after them. Arthur suddenly recalled how drawn Merlin had looked that morning, how pale. He mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner, and looked over at Merlin's peacefully sleeping form.

"Thank you, Gaius," he said, dropping his voice humbly. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he added, "I'll instruct the people to bring their sick and injured directly to the castle today; there are enough nursemaids and midwives to attend to the lighter incidents. Get some rest." He attempted to maintain an authoritative tone, making it sound like an order. Gaius nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he said quietly, and suddenly Arthur hated the sound of his title, hated everything it stood for, hated the weight of all the lives he was responsible for fixing-and ruining.

"Take care of him," he said quietly, before slipping out the door into the mid-morning sunshine.


	2. 2 Snakebite

**A/N** : Thank you, thank you, everyone who read the first chapter! I wasn't expecting that large of a positive response, so seeing them was a hugely gratifying experience. Special thanks go to mersan123 and Candle-lit Dreams for reviewing; it's really amazing to get any kind of feedback on my writing. This next one is a little heavier on the whump, but I hope you like it.

Socotra is a real place. It is an archipelago of four islands in the Arabian Sea, and its name roughly translates to "Isle of Bliss." I chose it for the setting of this story because I liked the name, but it has no real relevance or historical accurracy on any of the following plot.

Also, I am not a doctor, and have minimal skills and knowledge of medicine. All inconsistencies and errors are mine.

Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine. Please don't sue me. Namaste.

2\. Snakebite

Merlin forced his legs to work faster, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to continue climbing in the rough terrain. _Keep moving, have to keep moving_ , he chanted silently to himself. Finally, he crested the top of the hill, leg muscles screaming in protest with the strain. He slowed down to a walk, and flopped onto the ground.

"I...I have made it to the top...of the hill," he said in between gasps, chest heaving.

"This is...is my life now. I have...climbed this hill, and...and now I will die upon it," he finished breathlessly, closing his eyes and letting his head loll to the side.

Arthur rolled his eyes and walked past Merlin's prone figure. "Shut up, Merlin. We've only been hiking for twenty minutes."

Merlin's head shot up. "What? Just twenty minutes?"

"You're going to have to move faster than that if we want to reach the kingdom of Socotra before nightfall," Arthur called to him, not looking back.

Merlin groaned, and rolled to his feet. King Uther had ordered them to go to the kingdom of Socotra in order to, hopefully, negotiate a trade agreement between the two kingdoms. Socotra was known as the most skilled metal-working and forging kingdom in all the land, and the king of Camelot hoped to gain some of their superior metal-work, in exchange for the rich farming supplies and crop yields that Camelot provided.

Merlin huffed in annoyance, thinking back to the king's words as he had sent them on their way. _'Try to institute a trade agreement with them. At the very least, establish diplomatic relations. They are a proud and fierce people, Arthur. You must keep your wits about you when you are negotiating,'_ the king had said, looking directly into Arthur's eyes.

' _Yes, Father,'_ Arthur had answered, before turning on his heel and beginning the journey. _'I will not fail in this.'_

And so, twenty minutes later as Arthur had so helpfully pointed out, Merlin was getting hot and tired from the unrelenting pace that Arthur had set.

"Why couldn't we have just taken horses?" Merlin asked waspishly as he stumbled after Arthur.

"The people of Socotra believe the horse to be a noble animal used only in times of battle or war," Arthur answered patiently, although he didn't stop walking. "If we came riding into their kingdom, no formal declaration of war would be necessary; we would be dead before we passed the gates."

Merlin mulled this information over, aware of just how hot the sun was on the top of his head. "Well, why are we going? The King usually handles this sort of thing, along with several members of the Council, doesn't he?" Merlin asked, still trying to find a reason, _any_ reason, that ended with them going back to Camelot.

Arthur sighed, but answered in a mild tone. "It was essential that I am the one to establish diplomatic relations with the Court in Socotra, because it signals peaceful intentions from the start. It is a sign of great trust that Father sends me to a new land, because the people of Socotra know that I am the Crown-Prince and heir to the throne of Camelot."

Merlin thought this over too, and saw that it made sense. However, his feet were starting to hurt.

"What does that even mean, 'diplomatic relations?'" he asked sulkily.

"It mean we need to express our peaceful sentiments and good wishes to the people of Socotra to ensure future dealings with them," Arthur said shortly, getting annoyed at Merlin's reluctance.

"No, it means you get to flirt with the ladies of the Court and watch them all swoon and sign any treaty establishing 'diplomatic relations' with Camelot, provided that you come back to visit for any 'future dealings,'" Merlin muttered childishly.

Arthur, however, caught every word.

"That's an interesting notion. Maybe you can ruminate more deeply on it when we get back to Camelot, while you're polishing my armor, mending my clothes, cleaning my room, and getting the training equipment ready for the knight's graduation ceremony next week," Arthur said smoothly, a hint of anger coloring his otherwise neutral tone.

Merlin sighed. Arthur picked up the pace, and the tense lines of his posture told Merlin that he would make good on his threats later. Merlin was about to protest further, but noticed the way that Arthur was deliberately walking, and realized that if he complained one more time, he was liable to get a rock thrown at his head.

For the next three and a half hours, Merlin trailed behind Arthur in silence, just keeping up. Finally, Arthur stopped. "We're making good time," Arthur said, taking a long drink from a water skin he pulled from his pack. Merlin nodded, too out of breath to answer, and decided to drink something as well.

"At this pace, we should make it to Socotra well before nightfall. We may even make it back to Camelot by mid-morning tomorrow if we keep this up," Arthur said, obviously pleased.

"Oh, great!" Merlin brightened at this news momentarily, although the thought of walking all night didn't seem very appealing to him. Still, it could have been worse.

"Alright, come on. Let's get moving," Arthur said, cutting their impromptu break short. Merlin heaved himself to his feet, and was about to follow Arthur when he felt a piercing pain shoot through his left calf. With a cry of pain, he twisted just in time to see a black, shadowy shape slither away through the grass. Merlin's leg gave another painful throb, and his good leg caught on some brush. Merlin fell hard to the ground, unable to do anything but grunt in pain. Arthur sighed, turning around.

"Merlin, I swear if you're trying to get another break, I will personally make sure that you…" he trailed off, seeing the pale face of his servant bunched up in pain.

"Merlin?" he asked, feeling a tendril of unease curl in his stomach. Merlin just writhed on the ground, feeling the pain intensify. He sensed Arthur drop down beside him, and opened his eyes to find Arthur looking at him with concern.

"My leg, there was a—a snake, Arthur." Merlin said, fighting to get the words out. The pain was making the air rattle around in his mouth.

"Did you recognize it? What kind of snake?" Arthur asked urgently, rolling up Merlin's left pant leg to look at the wound.

"I—I don't know!" Merlin said desperately, jaw clenched around the scream that wanted to force itself out.

Arthur hissed in sympathy when he saw the snake bite. The two puncture wounds were a deep red color, in stark contrast with Merlin's pale skin. Merlin's breath hitched as Arthur gently rotated his leg to get a better look at the ragged perforations.

"Sorry, sorry," Arthur apologized. Merlin said nothing, whole body shaking as sweat ran down his face.

"We're closer to Socotra now than we are to Camelot," Arthur told Merlin, fighting to keep his voice calm. "If we keep going, we'll get there in a few hours. They'll be able to help," he said, trying to think through their limited options.

Merlin laughed mirthlessly. "Why would they help us?" he managed. "They don't even know us, and we're from a rival kingdom. Camelot will seem weak if we beg for their help on a diplomacy mission." He broke off, groaning as another wave of pain broke over him.

"Better to seem weak than to be so," Arthur said briskly.

"The King won't see it that way," Merlin gasped, voicing Arthur's thoughts. "The life of a servant is not worth the potential to be gained from an alliance with Socotra. You must go on, Arthur."

Merlin's eyes sought out Arthur's, trying to convey his meaning, trying to make him see.

Arthur however, shook his head. "No," he said stubbornly. "We'll go to Socotra. They will help us," he said resolutely.

Merlin's eyes burned with tears of frustration and pain. "You don't understand, you prat! Camelot cannot be put into debt on my account. We don't know what they will ask in return, and we can't risk that! As it sits, we have a bargaining chip. If we go in asking for help right off, we throw that out the window! The fact that you're the Crown Prince might not be enough to grant you diplomatic immunity once inside the kingdom, and they could do with you as they please!" Merlin gasped as a sudden spasm of pain shot up his leg, making his back arch up, tears streaming down his face.

Arthur's frayed string of patience snapped. "What would you have me do, Merlin? I will not leave you here!" He grabbed Merlin's arm, hauling him to an upright position that made Merlin cry out. He hefted him onto his back in a secure hold and began walking towards Socotra.

Merlin tried to say something, but ended up unable to focus on anything as the sudden shift in position left his head spinning dizzy. Arthur kept walking, feeling his friend shake in pain, although he kept quiet. Arthur walked until the muscles in his back and legs ached. By his reckoning, they were about half an hour's walk from the Socotra domain, but daylight was starting to fade. Arthur carefully put Merlin down, noting the wince that this slight movement brought, and took out his water skin in offering. The dark-haired man grimaced and shook his head, nausea making his stomach cramp.

"You should drink something," Arthur persisted. "We'll be in Socotra soon."

Merlin closed his eyes. Arthur noted that his eyelids were a bruised purple in a gray face lined with exhaustion.

"How do you know they'll even be able to do anything, Arthur?" Merlin said, opening his eyes which were thankfully clear. "They are a metal-working kingdom. They don't specialize in healing and medicine, and Camelot is one of the best in that respect because of Gaius," he said, through chattering teeth. He had begun to shake again, and his body hurt from the tension shivering brought.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said, tone brooking no argument. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it while he was carrying Merlin, and now those fears were creeping from the dark corners of his mind, whispering doubts into his ear. He shook his head as if to banish the oppressions of his own thoughts, and made to pick Merlin up again.

"Just a little longer," Merlin begged. He didn't think he could handle being moved again. Arthur looked heartbreakingly torn for a moment, then his face hardened.

"Sorry, Merlin. The longer we stay here, the less chance we have of making it in time. We have to keep moving."

He then hoisted Merlin up once again. Merlin gasped raggedly, his vision turning gray. After what seemed like a long time through the gray haze-or was it only a few moments?—Merlin dimly realized he was moving, swaying easily with Arthur's steady gait. He shook with pain, unable to do anything else. He briefly considered using magic, but dismissed this thought almost as soon as it had appeared. Even if he _did_ reveal his magic to Arthur, he didn't know any spells to heal himself. It was no use.

Arthur stumbled slightly on a rock, causing racking waves of pain to run through Merlin again. He was vaguely aware that tears were rolling uncontrollably down his face and thought incoherently that Arthur was going to call him a baby if he didn't stop. The gray, painless place beckoned to him, and Merlin let himself be swept away by the tide of unconsciousness.

Arthur felt his friend go limp, and quickened his pace. He didn't have long now. "We're almost there, Merlin," Arthur said, mostly to reassure himself. Finally, _finally_ , he caught sight of the proud stone towers of Socotra. He moved faster yet, strength renewed. As he approached the main gates, he was met by the unfriendly faces of two guards.

"I am Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot," the blond man said, a bit breathlessly. "We were on our way to establish a peaceful relationship between our kingdoms when my friend was bitten by a snake. Please, he needs help."

The guards looked at him impassively, until Arthur had to fight the impulse to scream at them to move. At this rate, Merlin was going to die, all because they couldn't get past the gates of the place that held the power to save him. Finally, the guards stepped aside.

"This way," one of them said in a deep voice, leading Arthur into the heart of the main city. Even in the urgent situation, Arthur couldn't help but note the amazing structure of the kingdom. Metal was present in every place he could see: buildings had long rails and swooping parapets, accentuated by gracefully curved arches and wrought-iron designs, all the signs were made of metal, and the castle itself was a made of a curious combination of metal and stone, giving it a dark color that hinted at great strength and power

The guard led Arthur underneath a tall archway, into a building with high ceilings and bustling with , men and women walked to and fro, each absorbed in some task or another. Arthur was suddenly reminded of a beehive. They were approached by a thin girl no older than Merlin wearing an apron with her dark hair swept back into a tight bun and a no-nonsense look.

"Bring him this way," she ordered, gesturing further into the room, where there were perhaps a dozen beds lined up against the wall, amongst tables and benches holding medical supplies and equipment, the purpose of which Arthur could only guess at. The efficiency of this place was fantastic, Arthur thought. He made a mental note to tell Gaius of this; Camelot could benefit greatly from a more structured approach.

"Set him down here," the girl said, turning to a nearby bench and putting various ingredients into a small bowl. Her hands were sure and quick as she expertly ground it together and added water, creating a paste. She turned back to Arthur. "Where did he get bit?" she asked bluntly.

Arthur's mouth dropped open. "How did you—"

"I just know!' she snapped. "Where?"

"His left calf," Arthur said numbly, still in awe of the skill and medical knowledge of one so young.

She rolled Merlin's pant leg up, revealing the ugly puncture marks. Merlin didn't stir as she gently prodded at them with nimble fingers. She took the poultice from the bowl and spread it evenly over the wounds, before applying moss to the top of it, acting as a type of bandage.

"This will draw out the venom," the girl said, not looking up from her work. She pulled a small glass vial with a stopper from one of the many pockets on her apron, and tilted Merlin's head back, forcing the liquid down his throat.

"That will ease some of the pain and aid in the healing process. He should regain consciousness in a few minutes," she said, seeming to relax a little.

Arthur felt a tremendous burden lift from his shoulders.

"I…Thank you," he said. The girl looked at him, and suddenly her face lit up in an unexpected, wonderful smile that made the room seem brighter.

"You're welcome. Now, as I understand, you two have business with the Court," she said, checking to make sure the bandage on Merlin's leg was securely fastened.

"Yes," Arthur answered, suddenly dreading the thought of what Uther would say when he realized that he had indebted Camelot to Socotra. The girl looked up sharply, as if she could sense Arthur's thoughts, and her voice was suddenly gentle.

"Here, it is customary that the hungry are given food, the homeless given shelter, the sick and injured cared for. This is the way of Socotra and shall bear no effect on the matters you wish to discuss, nor our opinion of your kingdom, for we have heard tales of the nobility and decency of Camelot," she said, respectfully bowing her head. "I am certain the Queen would be honored to form an alliance between our kingdoms, to benefit us both." The girl smiled again, simply, and Arthur realized that she was very beautiful.

She cleared her throat. "He'll be fine in a little while," she said, looking down at Merlin. Already, the snake bite was beginning to look less inflamed.

"I have other duties to attend to, but it was an honor to meet you, Prince Arthur." She bobbed in a quick curtsy.

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss…" Arthur trailed off uncertainly.

"Elinor Brook. Nell," she said, offering Arthur another quick smile.

"Nell," Arthur said, returning her smile. "You saved my friend. That is a debt I can never repay." He looked earnestly into her eyes.

"Just make me a promise and we'll call it even," she said quietly, stepping closer.

"Anything," Arthur said instantly.

"Promise you'll come to visit again, but not like this!" Nell said, eyes dancing with good humor.

Arthur was about to respond when he heard a weak, "I knew it," come from the bed. He looked over and saw Merlin sitting up on his elbows, still pale but conscious and looking much better than earlier.

"Oh, so _now_ you wake up?" Arthur grinned at Merlin. "This is perfect, actually. On the way back, you can carry me, how's that?" he said seriously, although his expression belayed the heat behind his words.

Merlin grinned back, unable to help it.

"Yes, sire."


	3. 3 Fever

**AN:** Thank you to everyone who read the last few chapters, and those of you who left reviews were amazing! I wanted to post a warning for this chapter. I was inspired after I watched S2E9, so there are references and spoilers to that episode. After Freya died, I felt like something more needed to be said, and it came out in this form...

That being said, reviews are greatly appreciated because I don't want this to be cliche. If anyone feels like I went overboard on the angst or wrote someone out of character-definitely possible with this one-please leave something. Even a few words in a review could help me work at getting a better result. This chapter is quite a bit heavier than the last two, but I think it fits. It also has a focus on emotional pain/angst. I hope everyone enjoys. Namaste.

Disclaimer: Merlin still isn't mine.

*Words italicized are most likely actual quotes from the episode. Only a few aren't.*

3\. Fever

Midmorning sun crept silently through the windows of the physician's chambers. Unaware of the new day, Gaius slept on, face pressed into the old book he had fallen asleep reading. Arthur burst into Gaius' quarters angrily, startling the old physician awake.

One look said it all: Arthur was in a head-cracking mood.

Every line of his posture indicated fury, and he scowled, placing his hands on his hips. "Where is Merlin?" he demanded. Gaius resisted the urge to raise his eyes to the heavens, and stood up, wincing as his back issued a series of pops and cracks.

"I expect he is still sleeping, Your Highness," Gaius said respectfully.

Merlin, Arthur and several of the knights had been on a hunting trip that had lasted ten days, from which they had returned late last night. Arthur and the rest of the knights had immediately retired to their chambers for some rest. Merlin had been about to follow suit, but Arthur had ordered him to see to all the gear.

Merlin had spent the better part of the night cleaning and mending clothes, washing dishes, skinning and cleaning the game they had taken, and taking care of the various weapons that had been brought on the trip.

Gaius had meant to wait up for Merlin, but had fallen asleep reading one of the old tomes on herbal medicine. Merlin had come back to the physician's quarters in the wee hours of the morning, chores finished and stumbling with weariness. He had promptly made his way to his bed and collapsed.

Arthur remained unimpressed. "Just because he stayed up a little late last night doing chores doesn't mean he gets to have a lie-in today. I expect him to report to my chambers in ten minutes," he said authoritatively.

"Prince Arthur, please," Gaius said beseechingly. "If he could just have today off to recover from the trip—"

At that moment, a pale figure with a dark head of sleep-tousled hair emerged unsteadily from the back room. Gaius looked at his young ward and instantly knew that Merlin was not well.

The dark smudges under his eyes were accentuated in his too-pale face, and he was shivering slightly, although the chambers were a comfortable temperature. He stood there in rumpled clothes, and looked back at Gaius and Arthur with something like confusion.

"Ah, Merlin. Good, you're awake," Arthur said, oblivious to Merlin's condition. "You're running late today, but after yesterday I suppose it can be forgiven this once. Get dressed quickly and come with me. We have a lot to do today," Arthur said, pleased that his servant was awake. Merlin just stood there uncomprehendingly, and Gaius had the sudden feeling that Merlin hadn't heard.

Suddenly, Merlin snapped his head up, and his fever-glazed eyes swept through the room. He began moving, in shaky, uncertain steps, grabbing a small knapsack and stuffing random items inside. "We'll need supplies. Food, water, horses," he mumbled to himself. "We'll go somewhere else, don't worry. Mountains, fields. Wildflowers. I'll look after you. A lake."

"Merlin?" Gaius asked uncertainly, taking a step towards the swaying young man.

"Merlin, we came back from the trip yesterday, remember? We don't need any supplies," Arthur said, clearly confused. Gaius inhaled sharply, and felt his heart sink in despair. Merlin wasn't talking about Arthur, not about Arthur at all.

Merlin tried to make out the words that Arthur was saying, but they fell from his lips too quickly to catch, spiraling into silence. His head ached, and he felt strange, disjointed. There was something he needed to remember, something important. He grasped at memories, the bag held loosely in his hand. He needed to pack supplies; he and Freya were leaving Camelot together, not coming back ever, ever, ever. They were going to find a nice place where they could just be together, living without fear and everything would be perfect and—

Merlin's thoughts hit a brick wall of uncertainty. He felt like something had happened to Freya, although he couldn't remember what for the life of him. He was dimly aware of Gaius stepping forward, and he heard his name being called from far away. None of this mattered, only Freya and their escape, he needed to get out.

Suddenly, dizzily, he remembered Freya, remembered crying as she lay so still and silent in a beautiful dress. _You remembered,_ and she was looking at the flowers and the sky and the mountains and the lake.

 _I'm so sorry_

 _You've already saved me_

Merlin straightened up, grabbing a small cooking knife from the table and extending it with a shaking hand. He began to walk towards Arthur, the room tilting around him, making it hard to keep his balance. He stood in front of Arthur, brandishing the knife like it was a sword. _It was you, Arthur._

"Merlin," Arthur said, bewildered. "What the devil are you doing?"

Merlin fought a wild urge to laugh. "Looking at him," he said, then crumpled to the ground, knife skittering across the floor.

Gaius moved forward quickly, pressing his fingers to the unconscious man's neck, seeking a pulse. After a moment he found it, beating much too fast. He could feel the heat coming off of Merlin in a high fever. Arthur dropped to his knees a moment later, next to Gaius.

"Is he alright?" he asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice.

"I don't know," Gaius said, not bothering to hide his disquiet. "Help me get him over here," Gaius said, gesturing to one of the cots on the far wall of the room. Together they lifted Merlin and set him down on the cot, where he tossed restlessly, semi-conscious. Gaius felt his brow, which was covered in sweat despite his shivering frame.

"Get me some blankets from the cupboard," Gaius ordered, waving a hand behind him. Arthur moved to do as he said. Gaius brushed back Merlin's hair, and listened to his long shuddering breaths with concern.

"He was fine yesterday," Arthur said. Gaius nodded, unsurprised. "Likely, it is the effect of many nights of sleeping in an unsheltered place, exposure to the elements. The lack of proper rest last night must have put his system over the edge."

While Gaius continued fussing over Merlin, Arthur shifted his weight guiltily. All he had wanted was for the chores to be done. He supposed that they could have waited until today, when Arthur and the rest of the knights could have helped Merlin with them.

Merlin's eyelids fluttered, and Gaius felt something akin to panic as he caught sight of gold glinting beneath dark eyelashes. Without warning, a vase on a nearby table fell to the ground and shattered spectacularly into a thousand pieces. Arthur whirled around in shock.

"I…must have left it too close to the edge. Not to worry, Sire," Gaius hurriedly explained.

"Yes, well. I think I'll leave you too it then," Arthur said awkwardly. "I suppose I'll get back to the training grounds; I'm sure the knights are waiting for me."

"Yes, very good, Your Highness," Gaius said eagerly, seizing on the opportunity to get Arthur out of his chambers so he could try to help Merlin in earnest.

Arthur nodded his head in ascent and turned on his heel. Once the door had swung closed behind him, Gaius turned back to Merlin. The young man was tossing about restlessly and muttering to himself, English with snatches of magic words thrown in. Other objects fell off the shelves at random, and the mop bucket fell over with a resounding clatter that made Gaius jump despite himself. At last, Merlin began to settle into an uneasy sleep. Gaius felt his forehead, and clicked his tongue in displeasure; it was still much too high. He fetched a rag and a bucket of cool water, and set it on top of Merlin's fevered brow. The dark-haired man shuddered as if touched by ice.

For the next few hours, Gaius tended to Merlin's fever, replacing the cloth when it became warm, and doing everything he could to make his charge more comfortable, which was frustratingly little. Gaius dozed in his chair, lulled by the quiet chambers and the unusual absence of people to treat.

Suddenly, Merlin's eyes snapped open. Gaius instantly leaned forward.

"Merlin?" he asked tentatively.

The man's eyes were glassy and unnaturally bright. He looked at Gaius, but Gaius had the odd feeling that he wasn't seeing what was in front of him. Merlin seemed attuned to something entirely separate from reality, almost as if he was looking into a different time.

"I have to get her out of the city," Merlin said to himself, the fever slurring his words slightly.

"No, Merlin," he said, gently. "You can't help Freya now. She is gone."

Merlin's gaze sharpened; he seemed to understand the meaning, and looked at Gaius beseechingly, almost pleadingly.

"Where has she gone? I will follow her," he said, determination flashing across his thin face.

Gaius felt his stomach twist further. "Where she has gone, you cannot follow," the old man said, heart full of sadness for his surrogate son.

Merlin's jaw trembled, and Gaius saw unshed tears in his eyes. He suddenly went still, and looked up at the ceiling, seeming to lose focus. Gaius breathed a small sigh of relief, hoping that Merlin would fall back asleep.

Merlin remained semi-lucid, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing, but the pounding in his head was making it hard to focus on anything for too long. He painstakingly pulled at his memory, trying to obtain any information that would help him now. He distantly heard Gaius muttering something, and immediately felt a wave of crushing exhaustion rush over him. He fought desperately against it, trying with all his might to _remember._ He looked to his left, and his frantic breath caught in his throat.

There, on the stool beside the cot, was Freya. Through the dim blanket of fatigue thrown over everything, she seemed impossibly real, bursting with vitality and irrefutable energy. Her hair fell down her back in glossy curls, the way he had known it would when washed and combed. She was wearing the dress he had stolen from Morgana's wardrobe, and she looked even more beautiful than Merlin had imagined. His heart hammered in his chest as she leaned in, her eyes sad.

"Fear for naught, my love," she murmured, running a hand that felt blessedly cool over his hot face. "I am here." He closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch.

"Gaius said that—that you were—" Merlin choked up, not daring to speak it, hoping she would contradict him. Instead, she nodded solemnly.

"I am."

Time seemed to freeze for Merlin, as he felt the pain of losing her anew, as raw as the first.

"I wish I could go with you," he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. "I don't want to be alone."

Freya shook her head, and Merlin saw candlelight reflected in her tears as well. "You cannot follow me here. I was taken from this world much too soon, but I was gone even before I came to Camelot. I was dead the moment the sorcerer cursed me, Merlin. I knew it, as you surely did," she said, seeing Merlin flinch at her admission.

"No, I don't accept that," Merlin said desolately. "If I had gotten you out of Camelot fast enough, you would still be…here. We would have our cottage near the mountains. By the lake." Tears rolled down Merlin's face uncontrollably as he mourned for the loss of everything that could have been, for the things that now would never be. Shunned in a world wary of magic, forced into hiding, they had found solace and acceptance in each other.

And now she was gone.

"We could have had everything we wanted," Freya murmured, reflecting his misery.

Merlin felt his grief tightly coiling in on itself, trying to find a reason, some purpose to pinpoint, something to blame. He found it, and the pain he felt slowly built into a white-hot, immutable rage.

"Arthur did this to me. To us," he said, starting to tremble.

Freya just looked at him sadly, sharing his thoughts.

"This is Arthur's fault," Merlin said to himself again, almost shocked at hearing it.

"This cannot go uncontested," Freya said to him, suddenly, urgently. "What he did, everything we could have had—"

"I understand," Merlin said, fighting to get up, struggling to end this once and for all. Through the haze, he felt gentle but firm hands holding him down, and tiredness washed over him again heavily, leaving him dazed.

As the room began to fade around him, he struggled against the oncoming tide, not wanting to leave Freya alone, not ever again. "I will remain here, Merlin," she said immediately, seeming to know his thoughts. "Rest now." Merlin felt himself sink into oblivion, comforted by the reassurances of encouraging whispers in his ear.

Gaius released Merlin's shoulders and sank back into his chair, wiping a few tears from his own eyes. Merlin was deeply in the fever's hold, and was delirious. Gaius had said a small sleeping charm over him, but Merlin had surprised him by fighting it fiercely. He had started talking then, and from what was being said, Gaius could only assume he was speaking to a fever-dream of Freya. The last few words had been said so quietly that he hadn't been able to hear. Gaius sighed, and took himself to his room, knowing that nothing else could be done for Merlin. The sleeping spell would last the rest of the evening, and, lords willing, he would be better tomorrow. Dropping onto his bed, Gaius immediately fell into a light, troubled sleep.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

The stars slowly appeared, unblinking eyes that watched and noted the passage of time as they turned in the night sky. Merlin's eyes snapped open, awake but not entirely conscious. He looked around slowly, trying to get his bearings. He dimly noted that Gaius wasn't present. Freya stood by the door, beckoning silently. _Come, there is work to be done._

He began to pull himself up with great difficulty. His head pounded and his body ached. That was nothing compared to what he had felt when he knew Freya was gone. He would make Arthur pay, wouldn't stop until Arthur felt his pain, felt Freya's pain.

Now with a purpose, he struggled to a standing position, swaying badly. He started walking towards the door, lost his balance and fell against the table, jarring it heavily and knocking jars and books off in a haphazard mess. Heedless of his muscles screaming in protest, Merlin started again, legs wobbling unsteadily. Gaius, woken by the noise of the falling objects, rushed out of his room to see his young charge standing in the center of the room, leaning heavily against the table and looking ready to collapse.

"Merlin, you shouldn't be up yet," Gaius said, rushing over to his side. The young man was shaking like a leaf, fighting just to stay upright. "Back to bed," he said soothingly. In a sudden burst of energy, Merlin tried to push Gaius away. "No! I have to go find Arthur!" Merlin shouted, suddenly afraid that the physician would stop him.

"Merlin—" Gaius wrestled with the weaker man for a moment. Merlin struggled valiantly, and felt an unprecedented rush of power in his eyes. Gaius flew away from him as if pushed hard, and crashed into the wall. The combination of impact with the wall and his old age left him gasping for breath, trying to blink away the black spots that danced in his vision.

"I'm sorry, Gaius." Merlin looked at Gaius with sadness that made his heart ache. "I have to do this. Don't stop me." With that, Gaius felt his limbs go heavy, his eyelids closing of their own accord. Merlin, even weak with fever, was a powerful warlock, and he couldn't fight the spell.

Merlin sighed shakily as Gaius went limp, then slipped into the night, holding Freya's hand.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLN

Arthur laughed and clinked his goblet with the man directly across from him, someone on the Council who was vaguely important. Arthur was only half-aware of the activity around him. He was bored by the social event that his father had forced him to attend as future king, and uninterested in noble words and ideals as Camelot, flawed in itself, remained a symbol of hypocrisy, in Arthur's opinion. As he traded banter and flashed meaningless smiles, the doors to the main room burst open.

Merlin stood there, head raised, looking directly at Arthur. Arthur stared back, shocked by the unexpected arrival of his servant. He noticed that Merlin still looked sick, and spoke quickly, before someone else in the room could.

"Merlin, what are you doing here?" he asked, hoping to dissuade Merlin from interrupting further.

"I've come for you, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin said, voice weak but carrying in the silent hall. "To seek reparation for Freya."

"Who is Freya?" Arthur asked, baffled. His servant showing up in the middle of a feast concerning the Council was bad enough, but doing so while obviously sick was tantamount to a death sentence if Uther was in a rotten mood.

"Forgive me, Father," Arthur quickly said, trying to cover for Merlin. "My servant is sick, quite delirious with fever, and he _should_ be resting," he said pointedly, hoping the raven-haired man would take the hint. Merlin however, only looked more upset.

"Freya is—was," he corrected himself slightly, "the druid girl that escaped Halig, the bounty hunter. She had a name. She had a life. She only wanted to be left alone. That wasn't enough for King Uther of Camelot and his son Arthur, was it?" Merlin started quietly, his voice steadily rising until he was all but yelling the last line.

"We just wanted to be left alone! We wouldn't have hurt anyone. _Why couldn't you have left us alone?_ " Merlin shouted, trembling all over, partly from sickness, partly from rage.

"Merlin, you need to leave. I'll talk to you later," Arthur said dismissively, trying anything to get Merlin out of the room where the nobles and his father could see. Even as he said the words, his mind was whirling, trying to place what Merlin was talking about.

We? The girl had been alone, and she had been a monster, at that. She had seemed violent, and Arthur had held no more attachment to her death than he would a deer's. She had hurt citizens of Camelot, therefore she was a threat, something to be eliminated for the greater good. On the heels of that thought, he realized that he hadn't hesitated before he'd taken the final swing at her with his sword, hadn't questioned anything while his father had ordered her death.

He had killed her. And he hadn't even known her name.

Merlin stood at the doors, swaying and breathing rapidly, clearly weak yet furious.

Uther stood up, clearly impatient with this disruption. "Guards!" he called, summoning them.

Two guards appeared behind Merlin and grabbed his arms, meaning to haul him away.

Merlin suddenly began struggling. His thin but surprisingly strong frame almost managed to slip through the guards' hands, and his eyes imperceptibly flashed gold. With a hard shove aided by magic, the guards flew back into the opposite wall and slipped to the floor, unconscious. The people of the Council crowded together on the other side of the room, as if seeking refuge beside their king.

"Merlin—" Arthur began, but the rage-fueled man was already looking at him. Arthur began to back away, but Merlin's eyes flashed again, pulling the rug behind him into a pile, which Arthur promptly tripped over, falling backwards onto the stone floor.

Merlin walked up to Arthur, seething with hatred. Somewhere, his mind snagged on a doubt. Merlin shook his head roughly, trying to justify it to himself. This man was responsible for most of the things that had happened to him anyway. Freya had been unforgiveable. Looking up, he saw her standing a short distance away, and felt his resolve harden.

She was gone forever, because of Arthur. Whatever Merlin did to Arthur, it wouldn't touch the pain of having the only one who understands you ripped cruelly away for the same reason that bound you together.

Arthur lay on the ground, winded and looked at his servant. Merlin's eyes were bright, shining with the eerie, backlit glow that accompanies high fevers, and he looked about to fall over at any moment. Arthur felt the force of his rage more sharply than he had felt the fall to the floor. He had never seen anyone look so full of fury, had never felt such naked hatred directly.

Merlin advanced, and Uther made as if to stop him. Merlin's eyes flashed for a final time, and Uther found himself suddenly slumping in his chair, unable to fight the exhaustion rolling over him. The other members of the Council reacted similarly, some falling to the floor.

Arthur looked over at them in worry, then back at Merlin. "How—"

"She was innocent, Arthur. She was free of blame, and you killed her anyway," Merlin said to him, face frighteningly blank.

"Merlin, I did what I had to do," Arthur said, knowing that this answer was hopeless, an excuse.

Suddenly, Merlin's face became animated again, and a dark look of wrath passed terrifyingly across his sharp features.

"You could have disobeyed your orders! You could have given me time to get her clear, we could have gone and never bothered any of you again!" Merlin shouted, tears threatening. He fought them back; now was not the time for tears. He must be strong.

Arthur just stared back at him, remorse reflected in his eyes. "I know, Merlin. I know." Arthur said, feeling the weight of his crime settle on his shoulders fully for the first time. "I'm sorry." The words sounded hollow and meaningless to Arthur's own ears in the face of such a depravity.

To Merlin, they sounded mocking, a display of command in the face of those powerless to stop it.

"You're sorry," he said, sounding almost disbelieving. "I loved her. She loved me. And you're sorry."

Suddenly, he rushed to where Arthur was lying on the ground, frighteningly fast. Merlin pulled out the knife he had taken from Gaius' chambers and held it to Arthur's throat.

Arthur's steady blue eyes looked straight into Merlin's clouded ones. "I have wronged you, this I know. If this is what you truly wish, then let it be. I'll not stop you," Arthur said, not dropping his gaze.

He looked past Arthur and saw Freya, seated on the other side, watching the exchange silently. Suddenly, Merlin wavered. Arthur still stared at him, bravely facing death. Merlin, however, was focused on Freya. As he watched her, a tear traced silently down her lovely face.

Merlin sat astride his master, ready to take revenge for all that he had lost, and froze. Knife still held at Arthur's throat, he was too weak to strike and too filled with hate to stop. He pressed the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood that seemed startlingly red against Arthur's skin. Still, Arthur refused to look away.

The vibrant crimson made Merlin drop the knife with a hollow realization. Losing Freya had been almost unbearable. Losing Arthur as well would be worse. "Killing you won't bring her back," he said numbly, too spent to muster any emotion for it. He fell away from Arthur, stumbling backwards. His eyes slid closed as the fight went out of him. Arthur bent over him, and he went unconscious. The last thing he saw was Freya kneeling next to him, smiling gently. He could see the mountains and the lake reflected in her eyes.

Arthur took Merlin's pulse, and was enormously relieved when he found it. Gaius suddenly burst into the room, looking completely frayed.

"He's here, Gaius," Arthur said, gesturing to the unconscious servant.

Gaius hurried over, dropping down beside them. "Sire, your neck—" Gaius began, noticing the red.

"It's nothing," Arthur said. "Is Merlin alright?"

"His fever has finally broken," Gaius said, tremendously relieved. "He should be fine."

Arthur stayed silent, but Uther and the other members of the Council began to stir. Uther groaned, and sat up, gaining his bearings quickly. "Where is that servant?" he asked menacingly.

"Merlin was very sick, Father," Arthur said immediately, hoping to placate his father.

"That is not sufficient justification to attack the Royal Court," Uther said.

"He didn't know what he was doing. The fever made him delirious," Arthur said, reasoning with him.

Uther glared at Merlin's lifeless form suspiciously.

"Before I fell unconscious, I could have sworn I saw—" Uther began.

"Merlin took the drinks from the cook before they were delivered here. He mixed a sleeping draught in, then gave them to the serving boy," Gaius lied smoothly.

"I hadn't taken a drink yet when he walked in," Arthur said, accepting the explanation.

Uther nodded his understanding, then looked back to the Court Physician.

"How ill was the boy?" he asked. Gaius took his meaning immediately.

"He cannot be held responsible for his actions, Sire. His fever was so high, I'm quite sure he had no idea what he was doing," Gaius said.

"I suppose there's no real harm done then," Uther grudgingly admitted. "However, we cannot have servants planning harm to the royal family. When he awakes and is well enough, send him to me. I shall have him dismissed," the king finished.

"Father, he is my servant. I shall deal with him," Arthur said quickly, trying to spare Merlin.

"This cannot go unpunished, Arthur," the older man said coldly, looking at his son in surprise.

"And it shall not," Arthur responded. "I will see that Merlin gets what is deserved."

The king nodded. "Very well. Take him away."

He summoned a guard to pick Merlin up and carry him back to the physician's chambers, with Gaius leading the way and Arthur following.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMELRINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Arthur looked down at his servant, now sleeping peacefully on his bed and sighed.

Gaius had retired to his own room, knowing Arthur needed a few moments with Merlin.

"I know that I took her from you," Arthur said to Merlin, who didn't stir. "You loved her, and I ended what you had. There is no forgiveness in such a deed, no thanks. There is only loss and grief, and I will never be able to take it back. For that, I am truly sorry, Merlin." He cleared his throat suddenly and straightened. "I wish you had trusted me. I could have helped you," he said sadly, suddenly inconsolable.

He turned and walked out of the chambers without a word to Gaius, who wisely stayed silent. Merlin's face, peaceful in sleep, was marred by a single tear running from the corner of his eye, sparkling in the candlelight. He was dreaming of a pretty girl with tangled hair and ragged clothing. She was surrounded by wildflowers and light, in a field next to a lake and mountains. She was smiling.


	4. 4 Heights

**A/N** : Hello again, everyone. I want to apologize for the absurd amount of time I spent writing this next chapter. After the last chapter, I wanted something a little lighter, but I wasn't sure how to write it without it sounding cheesy. I'm not entirely sure I succeeded in that regard, anyway. Also, school has started, so I'll update as often as I can. Thank you to everyone who has supported this fic so far, it makes me so happy to know that people are reading my work. All mistakes are mine, as always.

Disclaimer: I do not have the privilege of claiming ownership to this wonderful show. Namaste.

4\. Heights

Merlin woke up gently, layers of dreams falling softly away from his mind like feathers drifting on the breeze.

He opened his eyes to see the sun rising through the little window of his room in the Physician's chambers. The young warlock sat up in bed, a smile quirking the edges of his mouth.

The various colors were exquisite, and the light danced along the edges of the clouds, highlighting everything from soft pink to a vibrant orange, all seeping from the same dark blue color that the night sky always took.

Merlin went to the window and looked out. The others in the kingdom were beginning to stir, but everything was still relatively quiet, not yet into the hectic bustle of life. The raven-haired young man sighed in contentment, relishing the silence, only broken by the quiet snoring of Gaius in the next room. Still smiling to himself, Merlin started with the day's chores.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Merlin walked briskly to the Prince's chambers, greeting everyone as he passed. The people of Camelot all smiled and called back to him, wishing him well. The day was clear and warm, and was promising to be a fall day which seemed to last forever, the kind that were so lovely you wished they would.

From the moment Merlin walked into his master's chambers, he could see that the young prince was in a mood. He was already awake for one, and he was scowling through the darkness, not having drawn the drapes himself. Merlin sighed inwardly, and mentally gathered every ounce of patience and composure that he could muster this early in the morning.

When Arthur was in a bad mood, it didn't bode well for anyone in the surrounding vicinity. Particularly so for the dark-haired manservant.

"Good morning, sire," Merlin said, crossing the room towards the window.

"I don't see what's so good about it," Arthur grumbled bad-naturedly, wincing as the sudden light from the window blinded him.

"It's a beautiful day, Camelot is peaceful, and the weather is very nice," Merlin tried for encouragement, watching the red and orange leaves dance on the autumn winds in the courtyard.

"That doesn't change the fact that I didn't sleep well," Arthur snapped. "Or that my room needs to be cleaned, my armor polished, the tack mended, the floors mopped, and the laundry done."

"As you wish, sire," Merlin said, carefully keeping his features arranged in a display of polite respect.

Arthur glared at him, as if his lack of argument was somehow vexing to him. Merlin just smiled, refusing to give in. It was a beautiful day, no matter what Arthur said, he decided. Arthur, suddenly sat straight up in bed. "Wait. What day is it?" he demanded.

"The fourteenth day of September," Merlin answered dutifully.

"Today is the meeting with the delegates from the Argentus kingdom!" Arthur yelled, flying out of bed, and hurriedly running behind the three-paneled changing screen, not bothering to order Merlin to help him dress.

"So?" Merlin asked, not understanding the reasoning.

"So, _Mer_ lin," Arthur shot him a glare as he hastily pulled a shirt on, "I was supposed to have written a speech welcoming them to our peaceful kingdom and recommending action for some policy changes that will affect both our lands! I haven't written it yet," he trailed off, now hopping on one foot as he struggled to put his boots on.

"Okay, well, we've still got a little time before the meeting later today," Merlin said reassuringly, trying to calm the agitated prince.

"I need you to go to the library and get me a book, Merlin," Arthur ordered distractedly, engaged in an epic battle with the buckles on his tunic. Merlin rolled his eyes and gently knocked Arthur's hands away, deftly fastening the toggles with long, nimble fingers.

"The book is titled, "Principles of Decorous Statecraft: A Definitive History of Camelot's Political and Procedural Rights and Practices in Regards to Adjacent Kingdoms and Contiguous Legislature," Arthur continued, running a hand through his hair.

"Dreadfully boring, I know," he acknowledged, catching the bewildered look on Merlin's face. "But I need that book to finish writing my speech, because it will give me information on exactly what I can and cannot offer the delegates in our agreement."

There was no reply from Merlin for a few moments. Then, "You mean to tell me that you can remember the title of a book so unwieldy, and yet you don't have sufficient knowledge of the neighboring kingdoms for a three minute welcoming speech?" he asked incredulously, a slow grin spreading across his features.

Arthur's scowl darkened as he caught the irony in the statement. "Now, Merlin!" he shouted, hurrying to buckle on his sword.

"Well, maybe I should get started on the chores first—" Merlin began and then had to duck as a metal plate came flying at his head. Taking this as a sign of extreme stress, Merlin set out for the library before Arthur decided to come at him with a sword.

When he reached the steps of the library, he took one last, longing look at the sky. The library would be dry and dusty, with none of the life and energy that the day had. He slipped quietly through the door, boots hardly making a sound on the stone steps.

He took a few steps forward, uncomfortably mindful of how loud his steps were, echoing throughout the building. Everywhere, there were tall bookshelves stacked with heavy tomes and treatises on every imaginable subject. They lined up neatly in immeasurable columns, silent sentries waiting. The sight of all those white, soundless rows was unsettling. The high ceilings and lack of windows reminded Merlin of a forgotten cave. Or a tomb, he thought, and a chill ran down his spine.

"Hello?" he called, not wanting to surprise Tercius, the Head Librarian. The man was ancient; much older than even Gaius. He had a bad habit of sneaking up on the people who came in, seeming to materialize from between the columns, then disappearing back into the shadows with a swirl of dust. Worse, the library was gigantic, and tracking down the book he needed without Tercius would take Merlin several weeks. One was very likely to get lost, only to have to call out to the enraged librarian to lead them to the exit.

"Tercius? I need to get a book for the prince," Merlin called, taking a step further. The echoes of his voice eerily amplified were his only answer. "Please, it's urgent!" Merlin called, desperation coloring his tone. Suddenly, he heard the rush of a cloak, and whirled around to see Tercius standing behind him, from nowhere.

The Librarian's hands gnarled over the heavy cane he carried. Legend said that he didn't need it to walk; he hit people who got lost or mistreated the books under his protection. Merlin gulped, staring at the small but intimidating figure in front of him.

"Well, boy?" Tercius demanded. "I haven't all day, and neither do you." He cackled as if he had said something extraordinarily witty, and Merlin suddenly wished he were somewhere else—anywhere else—besides locked into a creaking old building with a half-mad old man.

"I—I'm looking for a book on kingdom procedure," Merlin began. "It has a rather…cumbersome title," he said, unable to remember the exact wording.

"Many of them do," Tercius snapped, losing patience. "I'll take you to the section, but your description is much too broad to find it myself. You'll have to do that," Tercius said, setting off into the nearest column of books without waiting to see if Merlin was following or not.

Merlin hurried after him, stunned at the speed Tercius was able to travel. They walked through the endless rows for some time, the way lit by the dim light coming from the small candle the Librarian had produced from his pocket. The young warlock began to feel that time had stopped, and he would continue walking those identical, white rows of bookshelves, never finding what he needed. Abruptly, Tercius stopped. "Your book is somewhere on the top of this shelf, boy," Tercius said irritably. "You are permitted to find it, but mind the ladders; they're quite rickety. And one other thing," he said, leaning closer to Merlin, who fought the urge to shrink back.

"If you damage a single book in _any_ way, shape, or form, I'll see that you wander the halls of my library for eternity. " He paused for a moment, as if listening to something only he could hear. "There's someone at the door, I have to go. If you get the urge to try anything clever, think about the size of this building. You'll never find your way out alone, boy. Remember that," the old man grinned evilly, then stepped back into the darkness of a row. Merlin, wide-eyed in terror, rushed forward to find Tercius, but it was too late; the decrepit man had disappeared again. Merlin, shaking, turned back around to face his shelf of books to search, and groaned in frustration. There were easily seven hundred books on the top shelf alone, all of them looking so old they might disintegrate when touched. Fighting despair, Merlin closed his eyes. Suddenly, he had the answer.

" _Áscian_." Merlin felt his eyes briefly burn with energy, the magic flowing from his fingertips. The magic sorted through the books quickly, until it found the correct one, about three-fourths of the way down the shelf. Merlin didn't want to risk using magic to get the book down because he knew that Tercius had frighteningly good hearing, and could reappear without warning. The last thing he wanted was to get executed because his secret had been revealed by a senile old librarian with a bad temper.

With a fair amount of trepidation, Merlin put a foot on the lowest rung of a ladder. The wood whined lowly under the small portion of his weight, and Merlin quickly removed his foot. Sending a quick prayer out to whichever deity of the Old Religion was listening, Merlin stepped onto the ladder, holding his breath. It creaked alarmingly, but held. He continued up, the ladder groaning and making minute cracking noises as he climbed perilously higher. His fingertips ached with the tension of white-knuckled force, terrified that the ladder would break at any moment, and painfully aware of how high he now was from the ground. A random thought popped into his head, something an old man had once said to him while on an errand in town for Arthur. "Seek not the things that are too high for thee," he had admonished solemnly, then turned and walked away.

Merlin was sure that finding a book on the top shelf of the library had not been what the old man had meant, but it fit the situation quite nicely, and Merlin almost laughed.

 _Seek not the things that are too high for thee._ Arthur wouldn't accept that, and neither would his faithful manservant.

Finally, he reached the top shelf, and started ghosting his fingers over the spines of the ancient books. He saw the one he needed, and groaned. The book had to be at least five inches thick, and looked heavy. Getting it down the ladder without falling to his doom was going to be an ordeal in itself.

Steeling himself, he grabbed the spine of the book, and pulled to no avail: the book was stuck. Years of sitting in one place on the same shelf had adhered the book to the surface of the shelf, and the dust that arose from the slight disturbance was blinding.

Tears streaming down his face, coughing, Merlin tugged on the book again. He felt it move a little, but his heart lurched when he felt the ladder sway disturbingly under him. Anxious to fulfill his task, he yanked on the book harder still.

The book came free, but the weight was unbalanced in his hand, and he had to lean backwards in order to save the book from falling from his grasp. Unfortunately, the ladder was stressed past its breaking point, pardon the pun. The ladder gave way with a loud _CRACK!_ and plunged both the book and the hapless Merlin towards the ground.

As he fell, Merlin's head connected hard with the edge of a lower shelf, leaving him dazed in midair, unable to even think about casting a spell to save himself. Arthur stepped into the row, just in time to see his manservant hit the ground hard with a sickening noise, eyes closed.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERELINMERLINMERLINMERILNMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Arthur stood transfixed, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. He had come to the library to see if Merlin had found the book. He had been stopped by Tercius, who had told Arthur with no small amount of contempt that Merlin had not been able to remember the title and was searching for it.

Arthur had demanded that Tercius take him to where Merlin was, but Tercius had refused to be rushed, and Arthur had consented to the time that Tercius had taken, persuaded in large part by the numerous threats involving a certain wooden cane carried by the cantankerous guardian of the books. Eventually, he had led the prince to the same section, grumbling all the while about arrogant young men who thought they could traipse into a library looking for books.

Arthur had snorted. _Heaven forbid_ , he thought sardonically. The librarian had spookily disappeared without a word, and Arthur had stepped between what felt like the billionth row of shelves when he saw Merlin.

Arthur rushed to Merlin's side, checking for a pulse, feeling enormously relieved when he found it. Arthur dully noticed that the book lay near him, just inches from his servant's outstretched hand. "Merlin!" he shouted, giving the young man's shoulders a firm shake. Merlin's body was limp in Arthur's hands, head lolling to the side. "Merlin, wake up!" Arthur said in a commanding tone, hoping this would shake his manservant out of it. Merlin remained oblivious throughout the ministrations, increasing the young prince's concern.

"Clumsy fool," a voice came from behind Arthur. Arthur jumped, hand going to his belt, were the hilt of his sword was. Seeing the hunched form of the Librarian, his hand fell back to his side.

"Good lord," Arthur muttered, not wanting to admit how much the old man had startled him.

The old man snickered, as if he had heard Arthur's thoughts, and stepped forward to examine Merlin.

"Hey—" Arthur began, not wanting the old man to touch Merlin.

"Oh, please. Who do you think helped Gaius find the books on medicine he needed when he was but a young man training to be the Physician, boy?" The old man said testily.

"Who do you think talked to him about the content in these books, helping him further his education? I know just as much about medicine as Gaius. I daresay maybe even a little more," the old man stated, running his spidery fingers carefully over the cut on Merlin's forehead, then examining the bump on the back.

"Your friend will come to in a little while," he announced, standing up. "Tell Gaius to give him a mixture of tripweed and coltsfoot. He'll be tired and disoriented for a little while, but he should be alright in the morning. I would give him the day off, was I in your place. Of course, I wouldn't be such a conceited dunce in the first place," he continued, muttering to himself.

The effort was entirely meaningless, because noise traveled extraordinarily well in the large building, and the young prince caught every word.

Arthur frowned, but didn't say anything. "Is there anything you can do to help us—" Arthur trailed off as he saw that Tercius had once again vanished. Fighting the urge to curse, Arthur settled himself down to wait until Merlin regained consciousness. After a few minutes, Merlin began to shift, moving slightly. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Slowly, they began to clear. "Arthur?" he asked fuzzily. "Wha's goin on?"

"You had a pretty nasty fall, you idiot," Arthur said, tone belaying the heat the words held. "You alright?"

Merlin's brow furrowed, as if he was trying to remember the answer to an especially hard question. "I…think so?" he said, making it sound like a question. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Merlin." He grabbed the raven-haired man's hand and hauled him to his feet. Merlin swayed, leaning heavily on Arthur.

"Let's get out of here," Arthur said, unnerved by the oppressive silence of the crypt-like building. "Don't forget…..forget the book," Merlin said, still not quite in the present time.

Arthur scooped up the book, then started the arduous process of finding his way out of the labyrinthine rows of shelves. Fortunately, Arthur had kept a small scrap of flint in his pocket, making small discreet markings on the shelves so that he could find his way back without Tercius' help if he needed to. The light was bad, but eventually, he found the trail of his markings, and followed them patiently to the exit with Merlin in tow, still heavily leaning on him.

They made it to the exit without incident, and Tercius was absent from his place at the front desk. Arthur was immeasurably grateful for this fact, and burst through the door of the library. He was blinded by the mid-morning sun, and quickly moved towards Gaius' chambers.

The cut above Merlin's eye was still bleeding profusely, and the injured young man suddenly started giggling.

"What are you laughing about?" Arthur asked, baffled.

"The old man—he told me not to seek things too high for me," Merlin answered, still snickering.

"Old man...Tercius told you that?" Arthur said, trying to avoid crashing into a passing hay cart.

"No, the other old man," Merlin said, as if it was perfectly obvious. "I thought he was talking about it philosophically, to stay humble. Knowing your place, not to wonder about things beyond the sky. Beyond the stars. I like stars. Stars are pretty," Merlin mused, making absolutely no sense in his ramblings.

"Are you seeing stars?" Arthur asked, torn between laughing and running for Gaius immediately.

"Not right now. It's _morning_ ," Merlin replied, sounding completely confused as to why Arthur would ask such a stupid question. "I saw them when I fell though. Lots of stars, all different colors, and beautiful patterns…" he rambled on, losing more and more coherency every second.

Arthur picked up the pace, and they made it to Gaius' chambers. Arthur pushed open the door, and Gaius looked up to see Merlin being supported by the Prince.

"God, Merlin, not _again_." Gaius rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

"Arthur got yelled at by the librarian," Merlin said, not sounding the least bit repentant.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who was getting tired of feeling intimidated by old men.

"He fell while fetching a book for me," Arthur informed Gaius, who was wiping the blood from the cut on Merlin's face.

"How far did he fall?" Gaius asked, looking at Merlin, who was still smiling peacefully.

Arthur hesitated. He didn't know how Gaius would react, and didn't want to be hit with a book. Old men were prone to hitting younger men with painful objects.

"Arthur." Not a request then.

" _Arthur_."

"Forty feet or so," Arthur said, bracing himself for an attack.

" _Forty feet_?" Gaius yelled.

Arthur winced. "I had just reached him when I saw him hit the ground. Tercius came and said he would be alright, that I just had to bring him to you. He said to give him a mixture of coltsfoot and…and tripweed," he said, floundering for a moment.

Gaius' eyebrow shot up again. "Tripweed and coltsfoot? Are you sure?"

Arthur nodded firmly.

Gaius turned to the bench and started mixing herbs together, forgetting that Arthur was even there.

Arthur looked at Merlin, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

"Hey, Arthur," he said suddenly.

"Yeah?" Arthur asked apprehensively.

"Why did you look like that when-when we walked past the front desk? You looked so _scared_ ," he said, snickering now.

Arthur pulled himself up straighter and said with all the dignity he could muster, "Tercius is scary."

Merlin burst into wild, uncontrollable gales of laughter, and Arthur swore he could hear Gaius chuckling from the back room.

"I'm leaving now," Arthur called, making sure Gaius could hear. "Tomorrow, I expect Merlin to be early. And I'm giving him double chores to make up for everything he missed today," he added.

The threat fell flat when Merlin's laughter continued, free and unabated.

Arthur stepped out of the chambers smiling.


	5. 5 Stables

**A/N:** Greetings to all! Thanks go out to everyone who has favorited and followed me or my story, and special gratitude is put out for those who left a review (you know who you are :)).

Anyways, I know I said I wouldn't be updating for a while, but I sat down at my laptop and there it was. I honestly have no idea where this idea came from; I swear I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. It was much lighter this time, to the point where I feel as if the whumpage on Merlin was very minimal. I'm very sorry for that, but somehow the plot bunny (pardon the pun) wouldn't go away.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway. It was a lot of fun to write, even if it missed the entire point of this one-shot collection. All mistakes continue to be mine alone. Namaste.

Disclaimer: Not I, sir.

5\. Stables

The doors to Arthur's chambers burst open, and Merlin came in, called by his master's summons. Arthur looked up and froze in his writing. Merlin's clothes were torn and untucked, the shirt actually ripped near the collar and his scarf missing entirely.

His pants had grass-stains, and he was sporting several superficial cuts on his hands and face. Arthur noticed the beginnings of a spectacularly good bruise around Merlin's left eye. The young man was covered in dirt and grime, with what looked like hay clinging to his hair and jacket. He was aching all over, but managed to smile and said quite normally, "You wished to see me, sire?"

Arthur stayed silent for a moment longer, simply looking at the spectacle. Finally, he asked, "How exactly did you manage to give yourself a black eye?"

 _Earlier that day…_

"Good training today, Merlin," Arthur said a bit breathlessly, pulling off his helmet. "You're improving," he said, obviously pleased. Merlin, too out of breath to verbally respond, grinned tiredly, and took Arthur's sword.

He put it away on the rack neatly, then took the other armored items Arthur handed him. Balancing them perfectly in one hand, Merlin expertly put everything back in the cupboard and smiled. Not a single piece was out of place; nothing could shift and bring it all crashing down on him as it did nearly every other day. He latched the cupboard door shut quietly and turned to Arthur, who was likewise surprised.

"Well, we've got to get upstairs and read the procedures for the knights' Induction ceremony later this evening," Arthur said, still looking mildly impressed.

"I looked over the necessary documents last night," Merlin said, gathering up the remainder of the training equipment. "I've made several notes on your writings that I think would be beneficial to include, and underscored the points I think you should focus more on."

He paused to take Arthur's gloves from him. "Also, I can take your armor now for a quick polish before the ceremony. Everything else is in order."

Merlin looked up to see a speechless Arthur standing stock-still. "What?" Merlin asked, wondering if he'd said something to offend the young prince.

"Nothing, it's just that….Well, you've never been this….efficient…..in your duties before, Merlin. I'm wondering if there's something you wanted," Arthur said, eyes narrowing slightly.

"No, no. I just thought that you'd want a little while to look over the speech once more before you had to deliver it. I knew that time would be a bit tight today, so I did a few of the chores earlier than…" Merlin trailed off as Arthur's frown deepened.

"Oh, come on, Arthur! I actually do something right for once and you _still_ complain about it?" Merlin asked, exasperated.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. It's just odd," Arthur said, still looking at his servant strangely.

"I guess I'll go change clothes then," Arthur said slowly. "You can go find something else to do for me, Merlin. I think the main hostler, Bronnig, was sick today. The stables need tending after. I expect them mucked out by the end of the day," Arthur ordered, turning to walk back to the castle without waiting for Merlin's response.

Merlin just stared after him, an annoyed look of disbelief on his face. He had done the other chores early, even gone above and beyond his assigned workload. All he had to show for it was the knowledge that he had done it and extra duties in the stables.

Merlin snorted and walked towards the building where the horses were kept. " _Prat_."

The stables weren't nearly as bad as he had expected, and secretly, Merlin didn't mind the work terribly. The building was cozy, and the smells of hay, oats, leather and dust comforted him, and the quiet sounds of the horses nickering to each other were the only interruptions to his work.

The best part about working in the stables was that you could say _whatever_ you wanted about _whoever_ you wanted. The horses would never tell anyone what you said to them.

The raven-haired servant had progressed through four stalls, had insulted Bronnig—the hostler- quite thoroughly for missing work (when Merlin _knew_ for a fact that the man had been at the tavern until the wee hours of the morning) and was currently comparing Arthur's good sense to that of a peacock, when he heard a noise.

The horses continued munching on their oats peacefully, sensing no disturbance, yet Merlin's intuition was telling him something was wrong. Leaning his shovel against the wall of the stall, he quietly stepped into the main hall. There was no-one in the building; it remained empty. Merlin was sure he had heard a noise. He stood still for a moment, straining his hearing, and suddenly it was there again.

A small scratching noise coming from the far stall, the one closest to the pen where he had led the horses while he cleared out their individual stalls.

Merlin's heart hammered in his chest, throat tight with apprehension. He quietly took a few steps forward then froze as whatever it was hit against the side of the stall, causing the horses to look up, ears perked.

Merlin grabbed the previously abandoned shovel, and tightened his grip on it. Holding it out in front of him and wishing fervently that it was a sword, he approached the partially ajar gate to the stall. Steeling his nerves, he used the end of the shovel to push open the gate, bracing himself for an attack.

Open air greeted him. Merlin stayed frozen for a moment, sure he had heard something. Suddenly, he heard the scratching noise again near the floor, making him jump.

Looking fearfully towards the source of the noise, he saw a small rabbit, balanced up on its hind legs and scratching at the bottom of a saddlebag someone had left on the edge of the stall. Sticking out of one of the pockets were a few carrots, which the rabbit was attempting to reach.

The rabbit froze in its actions as it saw Merlin standing there, only the end of its little pink nose twitching as it tried to get Merlin's scent.

Merlin relaxed his grip on the shovel, and let his head drop briefly, feeling his nerves settle. Suddenly, he was glad no one else was in the stables. Feeling incredibly foolish, he slowly reached out and grabbed the saddlebag. Sliding it quietly off the edge, he took one of the carrots out of the pocket, and put it down gently in front of him.

The rabbit stayed where it was, and Merlin lowered himself to the ground. Trying to look as non-threatening as possible, the warlock simply crouched and looked at the rabbit. As he noted the fine details in the fur's texture, the black inquisitive eyes, and the gracefully-shaped ears, the rabbit moved slowly closer. Merlin remained stationary, not wanting to scare it off.

The small creature hopped closer still, and finally moved towards the carrot. It picked up the carrot in its front paws and started chewing on it, never taking its eyes off Merlin. The servant smiled in simple awe; this was the closest he had ever gotten to a living rabbit.

Suddenly, Merlin was aware of how dry the stables were, how _dusty_. His nose started to tickle, and he knew that he was going to sneeze. He tried in vain to hold it back, but it was too late.

He sneezed loudly, and the sound frightened the rabbit, which ran directly into the pen with the horses in panic.

Merlin opened his eyes and all hell broke loose.

The horses began neighing loudly and stomping, panicking because of the darting rabbit. The rabbit had disappeared somewhere in the chaos of the horse pen, leaving behind the carrot.

Merlin got on his hands and knees and attempted to find the rabbit, spying it huddled in the corner of the pen behind the kicking horses, shaking in terror. He ran over to the corner, then crawled under the boards of the pen to grab the rabbit. He reached the corner, narrowly avoiding getting kicked in the head by one of the horses, and grabbed the rabbit.

The small animal, which had seemed docile earlier, suddenly started making a high-pitched keening noise and squirming in his hand. It began biting and kicking at his hands with the claws, drawing blood. The hapless servant readjusted his grip until he was holding it by the ears. The rabbit ferociously continued attempting its attack.

Merlin stepped out of the pen and tried to calm the horses, but they bucked and neighed, wild-eyed in terror. Suddenly, one of them kicked the pen's structure, and the old board snapped. Several other panicking horses kicked out at various other places, and soon all of the horses had escaped their pen in a frenzy. Merlin covered his face from the cloud of dust as the horses ran around him. Thankfully he had closed the stables' main gate behind him, so they didn't get far. However, the sound inside the building was deafening.

Merlin loosened his grasp momentarily, which was when rabbit took advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration and promptly bit the base of his thumb. Merlin yelped in pain and reflexively opened his hand.

Stepping back to escape his small tormentor, Merlin backed into a nearby rake leaning against a wall, which promptly started falling. As he turned to see what he had run into, the heavy ash handle hit Merlin squarely in his left eye.

The rabbit, having scrambled from his hand, jumped back onto his torso. He felt the sharp little teeth nick him in several places, just barely graze him in others through his jacket. The claws on the back of the rabbit's feet tore his thin shirt open and gashed him.

Meanwhile, the horses continued to whinny and stomp around, creating a dust cloud and loud crashing noises as they all tried to escape the stables.

Merlin felt the rabbit climbing higher, felt the sharp teeth cut into his chin, and struggled to untie the neckerchief around his throat. Finally, the knot came undone and he quickly swept it over the top and underneath the aggressive rabbit.

Panting, he held the ends of the scarf together tightly in his fist, creating a makeshift sack. The rabbit continued its attack unabatedly, still kicking and biting viciously at the inside the sack.

Merlin shook his head in disbelief at the violently moving sack containing what surely must be the rabbit from Hell.

He looked up at the horses, still creating a commotion.

"Quiet!" he yelled, eyes glowing yellow with magic. Although the word itself wasn't magical in origin, magical force was behind it. The effect was instantaneous: the horses quieted down. The rabbit went still inside its makeshift prison, and Merlin relaxed his death-grip on the scarf.

He stood quietly for a moment, letting the ringing in his ears subside. He kept all of the animals in a magical loop of calmness, and put down the rabbit. His scarf was shredded beyond repair; there wasn't enough left even worth mending. He sighed and stuffed the remnants into his pocket. The rabbit, looking for all the world like a timidly docile creature, hopped back over to the carrot and resumed eating.

Merlin's body slowly relaxed, shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. His hand throbbed in time with his heart beat from where the rabbit had bitten him, and his upper body stung from the various cuts and bites he had received.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin began grabbing halters, slipping them over the horses' soft noses and attaching lead ropes. Leading them back to the pen took less than two minutes, and Merlin took an extra rope and quickly tied it to the ends of the pen where it had broken. Satisfied that his improvised structure would hold the horses until he had finished cleaning their stalls, he moved to grab the shovel again.

At that moment, the door to the stables creaked open, and a small face peeked in. It was a little girl, no older than six, in a plain dress of dark blue which offset her red hair.

"Pardon me," she said when she saw Merlin, doing her very best to curtsey, "but have you seen Fendrel?" she asked him earnestly.

"Who is Fendrel?" Merlin asked, bemused at the social graces the child was showing him in a horse stable.

The girl turned her earnest green eyes on him. "My pet rabbit. I was playing with him, but he ran away. I chased him for a long ways, but I've never been this far into town before and I got lost. I thought he might have come in here," she added sadly, eyes filling with tears.

"Here," Merlin said, pointing to the rabbit who was still on the floor chewing on the carrot reflectively. "Is this him?"

The girl squealed and ran to her beloved pet. Scooping him up, she hugged him close. The rabbit seemed not to mind the embrace one bit. Merlin's forehead creased in a slight frown. Unbelievable. However, the girl looked so happy that he had to smile as well.

"Thank you for finding him!" she exclaimed, bobbing a little curtsey.

"You're welcome," Merlin replied, grinning at her. "Take one of these with you," he said, pulling a carrot from the nearby saddlebag.

"Thank you, sir!" she said, doing another curtsey before running to Merlin and wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug.

"Call me Merlin. Do you know how to get home from here?" Merlin asked the girl, kneeling to look her in the eye.

The girl but her lip and shook her head, worry clouding her features.

"Alright then, if we go to the marketplace in the center, will you be able to find it?" he asked her.

She brightened up at once, nodded empathetically. "Mama lets me go to the market to sell eggs!" she said excitedly.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"My name is Talitha, but everyone calls me Tally," she said happily.

He stood up, and she slipped her hand easily into his. She smiled at him, and they began walking to the center.

On the way, Tally chattered about her home in the East portion of town, her mother and father, and two brothers. "They're _disgusting_ ," she told Merlin conspiratorially. "Once, they played in the mud and got it all over the house. Then, when Mama called them for dinner, they didn't wash their hands until Mama made them." She said this with such a solemn face that Merlin couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

"If you ever need anything, come to the market and find me," she said seriously. "I'm there most days with the eggs from our chickens, and I'll repay you for finding Fendrel. And for taking me home," she added helpfully.

Merlin smiled at the girl's sincerity, then said formally, "I will be honored to call on you and your house if I should ever need a favor, Talitha."

She giggled, and started humming a song. Merlin's mind snagged on it, he could vaguely recall singing something similar in Ealdor when he had been a child himself.

Reaching the marketplace, Tally released his hand and said excitedly," Over there! That's the direction I live! I can tell because of the old man who always sells his rutabagas is on the corner. They always smell bad," she told Merlin matter-of-factly.

"I thought so too," Merlin replied, a wry grin creeping at the edges of his mouth.

"I have to go home now, but thank you again! Bye, Merlin!" she said, before running off towards her home.

Merlin watched her for a moment, then remembered that he was supposed to be mucking out the stables. As he began walking back, a courier intercepted him and said that Arthur wanted to see him immediately.

"I would freshen up a bit first, if I was you," the courier said disdainfully, eyeing Merlin's disheveled appearance.

Merlin flushed slightly, but set off for his master's chambers, drawing many wary looks and surprised glances from people along the way.

 _Present time…._

Arthur was silent for several moments, letting the story wash over him. Merlin shifted uncomfortably where he stood, suddenly mindful of the harm inflicted on his body and exhausted.

Arthur leaned forward. "You're telling me that all of _this_ —"he gestured to Merlin's ruined clothing and various injuries, "happened because of a _rabbit_?"

Merlin sighed and said, "No, Arthur. I would make up a story about being terrorized by a rabbit to get out of doing chores."

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," Arthur replied. "I'm just having a little trouble with the idea of you-who practiced with me just this _morning_ and actually managed to show some decent technique—getting conquered by a small animal." He had to fight to keep a straight face as he said the last sentence.

"I called you up here to polish my armor, but you'd better finish the stables first. Would you like me to send a few guards with you?" Arthur asked, now making fun of the young warlock.

Merlin scowled. "No, I think I can manage," he said shortly.

He left the chambers amid Arthur's laughter.

As he was leaving the castle, Merlin had an idea. Calling one of the couriers over, he asked him to take a message to a small girl living in the East portion of the town…

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Arthur returned to his chambers after the Induction ceremony, sighing in contentment as he thought about the day's events. The new regimen of brave young men were shaping up to be some of Arthur's best knights, and he couldn't have asked for more.

He chuckled slightly to himself as he remembered Merlin's incident in the stables, he readied himself for bed.

Falling into bed, he was almost asleep when he heard a small scratching noise from his wardrobe. Immediately alert, he lit a candle and pulled his sword from his bedside.

Muscles singing with adrenaline and tension, he approached the door. Inhaling sharply, he pulled open the door and saw his clothing all shredded and ripped. None of it looked like it would come close to being mended, and he looked down in dismay.

At the bottom of the wardrobe, sat a small brown rabbit, happily tearing chunks of leather from his favorite pair of boots. As he attempted to take his boot from the despicable creature, he had to jerk his hand back at the last moment. Arthur could have sworn it _growled_ at him.

There was only one person who would have the gall to do this. Arthur stared at the destruction of his closet in rage.

" _MERLIN!_ "


	6. One Time He Didn't Part 1

**A/N:** Hello, everyone! This is the final chapter of my collection, the very first piece of fanfiction I have ever written. Woah.

Anyway, I would like to thank everyone that has followed, favorited or liked this story, as well as those who left reviews. They motivated me when I fell into a creative slump and, well. They make me happy :).

This final chapter is dedicated to Candle-Lit Dreams, who not only left encouraging reviews consistently on _every single chapter _but drove me to keep improving my writing and not to give up on this fic. This story is finished in large part thanks to you, and I can't tell you how great it feels. You rock, dude!

So without further ado, here is the final chapter of my collection of one-shots. I decided to post it in two parts because it is fairly long, but I hope all of you find it enjoyable. Namaste.

Disclaimer: Not I, sir.

Pt. 1

"I have seen the dark universe yawning

Where the black planets roll without aim,

Where they roll in their horror unheeded,

Without knowledge, or lustre, or name."

H.P. Lovecraft

Merlin woke up from a dead sleep to a high, blood-curdling scream. He sat upright in bed, heart pounding as the screaming continued. The sound was eerie, making the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Abruptly, the screaming stopped, and was replaced by a low cackling that made Merlin's skin crawl. He scrambled out of bed, falling to the floor in his haste, and rushed out to the main room of the Physician's chambers.

"Gaius," Merlin said, shaking his mentor's shoulder lightly. "Gaius!"

The old man woke up with a grunt and blearily stared up at his distressed ward.

"Merlin? What is it?" he asked thickly.

"I heard someone screaming," Merlin said urgently. "It woke me, it was so loud. Then it stopped, and it sounded like someone else was…laughing," he said with a shudder.

Gaius threw off his blankets and went to the window.

It was a warm clear night; the stars shone brightly in the sky. All of Camelot was peaceful, save for the tolling bell which announced it was one o'clock.

"Merlin, the guards haven't been summoned. No one looks distressed at all. Are you sure you didn't dream it?" Gaius asked, trying to be rational.

"I know I didn't!" Merlin exclaimed. "You don't understand, Gaius! That screaming….It sounded as if someone was in pain, and the laughter was so cruel. I didn't imagine it," he said desperately, getting more agitated by the minute.

"Alright, Merlin, calm down," Gaius said softly, holding out a hand for peace.

"Camelot sleeps soundly. I'm sure if there is a problem, we'll hear about it in the morning," he said with a huge yawn.

"It _is_ morning," Merlin said, a little sulkily.

"Go back to bed, Merlin," Gaius called, already walking back to his room.

Merlin sighed and went back to his room. He laid down on his bed, but found he could not sleep. The idea of hearing that screaming again was terrifying, and he wanted to be awake if it happened. The laughter had been inhuman, viciously cruel and inconceivably wicked.

Something about the evil sound crept in through the cracks of your mind, slipped through your defenses while you were unaware. Forcing its way through until it filled everything with a dark hatred, until you knew nothing and were nothing except the darkness that filled you. The darkness was everywhere, high and mocking. It was full of pain and cruelty and deep betrayal and an unbearable sense of isolation-

"Merlin!"

Merlin jerked awake and realized it was morning. Gaius peeked his head through the door.

"You'll be late to Arthur's chambers," he warned. Merlin fell heavily back into bed, feeling completely drained although he had just woken up. With a growing feeling of unease, he remembered the events of that night, and quickly got up.

Hurriedly throwing on clothes, he rushed out and past Gaius, intent on getting to Arthur's chambers.

"Aren't you forgetting breakfast?" Gaius called after him.

"No time, sorry!" Merlin yelled back, already halfway down the path to the courtyard.

Gaius raised an eyebrow and went back to his porridge.

Merlin ran all the way to Arthur's chambers and opened the door, completely out of breath. Surprisingly, Arthur was already awake and fully dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed with thin morning sunlight leaking through the window.

"Are you alright, sire?" Merlin asked tentatively. Arthur looked terrible; he had dark circles under his eyes and looked pale.

"Yes, I'm fine, Merlin," he answered dismissively. "I didn't sleep well, is all."

"Oh. Was there…anything in particular that kept you up?" Merlin asked, trying not to be too obvious.

Arthur looked at him oddly. "No," he answered shortly, not wanting to remember his dreams.

"Right," Merlin mumbled, dropping his eyes to the ground.

"I have to get down to the Hall," Arthur said, moving to get up. "Father requests my presence this morning."

Merlin thought he detected a slight grimace on Arthur's face, but chose not to comment, instead only opening the door for his master. Everyone had their duties, their orders. Even Arthur, he thought with a rush of empathy.

"I want you to clean my room before you join us in the Hall," Arthur said, turning to look at his servant. Merlin looked around the room in disbelief. Laundry was strewn everywhere, loose papers and books lined the table and floor. To top it off, he could see that the floors needed to be mopped from the dirt Arthur's boots had tracked in.

"All this?" he asked incredulously.

"If that's a problem, I can find something else for you to do," Arthur said quietly. An offer, a threat. Merlin sensed the hidden aggression behind the statement and wisely stayed silent, instead giving a short bow to Arthur. The young prince then walked away, closing the door behind him.

Merlin sighed and began gathering up clothing.

Arthur's head nodded, dangerously close to falling asleep. His hand was propped under his chin, and he was seated in his chair behind the King's throne in the Main Hall. The people of Camelot were in a long line in front of the throne, asking the King several questions about the town, its business, the continued rules and procedures, et cetera.

Normally, the young man found these experiences tolerable, if not enjoyable. It showed him what he would have to do to command respect someday, and gave him an idea of the inner politics involved in ruling a kingdom.

After his restless night, however, Arthur found himself struggling just to stay awake. The line of people slowly moved forward, one nameless face after another.

"What do you think, my son?" Uther asked, startling Arthur out of his stupor. Arthur looked to his father and saw a slightly disapproving look.

"Forgive me, Father. I failed to hear the last request," Arthur said, sitting up straighter. He knew it was better to admit mistakes than to try and blunder his way through them.

Uther gave his son a small, rare smile. "Courage, Arthur," he murmured encouragingly. "It's almost over."

Arthur stayed alert, waiting for the next person in line to state their grievance. Suddenly, a horrible, ear-splitting shriek filled the hall.

Arthur jumped up and drew his sword reflexively, as did all of the knights present. Arthur whirled around, feeling the adrenaline sing through his fatigued form. He turned slowly and scanned the hall with his eyes trying to discern the source of the noise. He could see the tension in the lines of his knights' postures.

Uther alone remained composed. He stood, but did not draw his sword.

"Guards," he said calmly. "Go outside and patrol the perimeter. Report back at once."

Two guards bowed and quickly left the hall.

A few moments after leaving, the doors burst open violently, and the two guards flew back in, as if thrown. They landed at the king's feet, and Arthur saw immediately that they were dead. Their sightless eyes gaped in surprise and their skin was mottled gray and black in some places, as if burned.

Arthur swallowed his revulsion and looked up as two beings entered the Hall, walking slowly.

Arthur struggled to focus on their incorporeal shapes; they seemed not to have solid shape or structure. The creatures were a deep bluish-black color with an occasional flash of muted green showing as the shape of the beings changed again. They didn't so much walk as flow from one place or another, crossing the large floor of the hall in a few deceptively small movements.

Time seemed to stand still as they approached the king's throne. No one moved. Arthur froze, scarcely breathing. The beings stopped forward motion, but never stopped moving. They seemed to be perpetually collapsing and reforming into themselves, creating new forms and shapes every time. Arthur blinked hard and had to force himself to look away; they were mesmerizing.

Uther stood tall and proud, displaying none of his inner feelings.

"Why have you come here?" he asked in a clear, demanding voice. The ethereal figures remained silent.

"Speak!" Uther commanded harshly, eyes glinting coldly.

In response, one of the beings chuckled, a deep throaty sound that set Arthur's teeth on edge and made his muscles tense involuntarily. Several of the younger knights swore and readjusted the grip on their swords nervously.

"Uther….Pendragon," one of the beings said in a voice that reminded Arthur of wet branches scraping across a frozen river, sending chills up his spine.

If Uther was surprised, he showed none of it as he answered calmly, "I will not tolerate this in my castle. Get out," he told the creatures boldly.

"We have waited…so very long for this, Uther….Pendragon," the other being intoned. Uther's gaze turned to the second creature who had spoken, and froze.

"You….do not recognize us, Pendragon?" the monster mocked. "What about this?"

With that, Arthur saw the facial region of the creature blur slightly. The features shifted and stretched grotesquely, giving the impression of a face forming from melted wax. Arthur was slightly disgusted, but couldn't look away. As the face changed into something bearing slightly feminine characteristics, strange, distressed noises began coming from the creature. Finally, its head snapped back to face Uther.

"No, I beg of you, please!" the thing wailed in a woman's voice, so real it made the hair stand up on the back of Arthur's neck.

Uther stood in shock, mouth slightly agape.

The creature's face shifted again, this time into a man with a flat, broad face. The voice changed again, deeper:

"Please, my Lord, please spare me. I've a wife, children to feed! I haven't done it! It wasn't me! It wasn't—"

The last plea was cut disturbingly short as the thing began to laugh again, deep guttural laughing that came from pure, undeniable insanity.

Arthur's clenched jaw ached, and he could feel himself shaking as he fought to stay calm.

Uther drew himself up, but looked pale. "What do you want?" he asked them quietly.

"Revenge," the first monster asked, shifting its face to that of a young boy's. "Retribution," said the second, now with the face of an old crone.

"Reparation for all the death and misery—"the first being started.

"And pain and suffering your cursed rule has caused in Camelot, Uther Pendragon," the second finished.

"We want payment for all the ones you have wronged. For all the injustice in your vile name. The death can only be repaid with others. Only then will the balance be restored," the beings said in perfect unison, making Arthur's skin crawl.

"We do not forgive, and we do not forget. Payment has come, Uther Pendragon. The price is steep, this time. Steeper than even you can imagine," they finished, eerily laughing in disturbing simultaneity.

One of the knights, pushed past his breaking point, yelled, took aim, and pulled the trigger on his crossbow. The arrow did not pass through the creature as Arthur half-expected it to, but instead was slowed and then gently pulled into the middle of the creature.

Cracking, crunching noises where heard as the thing contorted horrifyingly, bending itself almost completely in half. The arrow shards suddenly shot back out of the monster faster than Arthur's eye could follow. The young knight fell to the floor, pieces of arrow shaft embedded in his eyes and chest.

Arthur looked back at the creatures, terrified.

At that moment, the doors to the hall creaked slightly as Merlin slipped quietly through them, unaware of what was happening.

Arthur connected gazes with his confused manservant, pleading with his eyes that Merlin run, that he get help, send someone to help them all get out of this.

Merlin's boots stuttered to a halt on the rich stone floor of the hall, gazing in shock at the creatures facing Uther.

Both of the monsters' head suddenly whipped around unnaturally, heads turned completely around to face the young prince. Arthur gulped, and the things started laughing at him. He fought the urge to scream with a feeling akin to panic. He dully recognized the horrible noise from his nightmares.

"So you are the chosen one?" one of the monsters asked, almost sounding amused. "The one who will save all of Camelot and unite Albion? Your name is echoed throughout the Halls of Prophecy, little one," its twin said. They began together:

"We have seen the writing, heard the tales ringing true throughout time. As long as there is evil and injustice in the world, we will always exist. You cannot stop us. We are inevitable as time itself. We have always been, and always will be."

Arthur felt his legs growing weak as the creatures stared at him. It felt as if all his energy was draining out of him and feeding directly into the monsters that stood before him.

Quick as a flash, suddenly they were standing in front of him. Arthur barely had time to blink before one reached out and grabbed his forearm. He grunted in pain as the touch was unbearably cold, seeming to freeze him to the very bone. His sword slipped from nerveless fingers, clanging loudly on the floor. The monster's twin grabbed his other arm, and the young prince fell to his knees, unable to stand any longer.

Dimly, he could hear Merlin shouting something, but he was too caught up in the cold. Underneath that, there was something else, a burning, white-hot rage drawn out over eons of time, never completely satisfied. It was constantly longing for something more, forever hungry.

Deep feelings of betrayal and retribution and rage passed through Arthur's mind, transmitted through the monsters. He tried to hold onto his own thoughts and ideas, but lost himself to the cold wind of bleak anger and undeniable pain. Keening and wailing over a lifeless prairie, he was the black wind, and the black wind was him. The wind swirled all around and inside him, and then finally, the contact stopped and he fell into blessed silence.


	7. One Time He Didn't Part 2

Pt. 2

He slowly became aware of quiet voices and the clinking of dishes that seemed much too close after the silence. With a gigantic effort, Arthur opened his eyes to see a worried Merlin bending down over him.

"Arthur? Can you hear me?" the young warlock asked, concern clearly etched on his face.

Arthur tried to speak, but found he couldn't. Nodding and making sure his servant could see, he struggled to pull himself upright into a sitting position.

Merlin helped him, staying quiet as Arthur took in his surroundings. He realized with a start that he was lying on a cot in the Physician's chambers.

"Where did they go?" Arthur asked breathlessly. Merlin's face pinched into a frown.

"After you fell, they left the hall," he answered. "I don't know where they went. Some knights tried to follow them, but they had already disappeared."

"I must find them," Arthur said, trying to get up. Merlin pushed him back onto the bed, and Gaius came over with a sternly raised eyebrow.

"If you even _think_ about getting out of that bed before I say so, I'll make sure you spend the next four days unconscious here," the old man threatened.

Arthur gulped and leaned back, not wanting to risk the healer's wrath.

Gaius pulled out a small pewter bowl and began mashing its contents into a thick paste. Gaius motioned for Arthur to roll up his sleeves, and Arthur complied, gasping with pain as he did so. His forearms where the creatures had grabbed him were a deep black color, as if burnt. They were also painfully tender.

Arthur saw Merlin wince in sympathy, and thought even Gaius grimaced slightly. "Frostbite," Gaius said, smearing the paste on the afflicted areas.

Almost immediately, Arthur felt a rush of warmth in his arms, dispelling some of the pain instantaneously.

"Oh, thank you, Gaius," Arthur muttered, closing his eyes in relief.

"You're quite welcome, Sire," Gaius said with a small smile. "The frostbite was caused by the creatures' touch, so it shouldn't be as long-lasting as the real thing. If it's not fully healed in a few days, come back and I'll see what I can do," Gaius said, falling back into the role of Physician.

Arthur inclined his head in understanding, although his brow was troubled.

"Gaius, what were those things?" the young prince asked, unable to keep a small tremor out of his voice.

"Perhaps I'll be able to tell you if you help me," Gaius replied, eyebrow still raised. "What exactly happened when they touched you?"

Arthur paled, not wanting to think about it. "It—it was cold. Very cold," he stuttered, trying to force his way past the emotion threatening to choke him.

"It felt…..angry. Rage and wrath and pain, everywhere," he continued. Merlin shifted uneasily, not liking the faraway look in his friend's eye.

"It felt like a wind, blowing over the world and everything in it. Except the world was hollow and lifeless. Everything was gone, and even though I could hear others screaming, could hear their pain…..It was so cold," Arthur whispered, wide-eyed and unfocused.

"So very cold….and alone. Nothing stood between us and the great granite barrier of time. We were crushed under its relentless march as the wind was around us and in us. There was nothing left but the screaming wind. And me. " Arthur was racked by a fit of uncontrollable shivering.

Merlin went to his master's side, vigorously running a hand up and down his shoulder, trying to bring Arthur out of it.

After a few moments, Arthur looked up at him dazedly, almost as if he had forgotten where he was.

"Here, Arthur," Gaius said, holding out a wooden cup. "Drink this."

Arthur silently obeyed, feeling the herbs trail hotly down his throat. Within minutes, the young prince was deeply asleep, the sleeping draught taking effect.

Merlin ran his hands shakily through his hair and Gaius sighed, turning to his young apprentice.

"Between what you told me about the creatures and what Arthur described, I'm fairly certain I know what we're dealing with. I can only hope that I am wrong," Gaius said, turning to fetch a book.

"It is called a _sluagh,_ " Gaius said, pronouncing it _sloo_. "Generally, they form in a crowd of restless, violent spirits that haunt whomever has done them wrong in life. I wonder what the spirits were referencing in regards to Uther's crimes," he mused.

"Wait, crowd?" Merlin asked, heart sinking. "You mean there are _more_ of them?"

"Oh, yes, many more," Gaius answered. "Where they able to speak and act in unison?" he asked.

Merlin nodded, shocked. He hadn't told Gaius that detail.

Gaius grimaced. "They are all united in a common goal against Uther, then. You must stop them, Merlin, before they can start avenging their deaths on the king and his entire bloodline."

"How can I stop them?" Merlin asked. "They're impervious to weapons," he said, remembering the poor knight who had tried to stop the monsters with his crossbow.

"They have grown powerful enough to walk among the living. Only magic can banish them back to the netherworld," Gaius replied. "Fetch your book, quickly. There isn't much time."

Merlin ran to get his magical book, and Gaius looked at the Prince, sleeping peacefully on the cot beside him. _Oh, Arthur_ , he thought. His heart ached for the young prince's burden.

 _That you should have to carry so much of your father within you is unfair in its own right. You should be judged on the contents of your own heart, not encumbered by faults which are not your own._

Merlin came back, hurriedly flipping through the book, trying to locate the spell which would banish the _sluagh_. Gaius shook himself mentally and helped Merlin find it.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Merlin sat cross-legged on the floor, book laid out in front of him. His eyes were closed, and he concentrated hard on the spell the banishing would require. Gaius sat near the prince, quietly retying Arthur's bandages. Merlin had been there for twenty minutes now, and while Gaius knew that time was of the essence, he also knew it was powerful magic. Merlin was moving as fast as he could, and would stop the monsters just as soon as he had full mastery over the incantation.

Merlin's lips moved soundlessly as he repeated the words to himself. He forced himself to go slow, to get it correct. There would be no margin for error when he set out to confront the other-worldly creatures. Worry for Arthur and the people of Camelot crept through his mind, breaking his focus. Merlin impatiently shoved these thoughts aside; they wouldn't help anyone now.

Nothing would save them if Merlin couldn't learn this spell.

Merlin began to feel the pressure, began breathing more rapidly. Panicking at the thought of failing, at the thought of standing by and watching Arthur die, helpless to stop it while the _sluagh_ laughed and laughed—

A firm hand on his shoulder made him jump. Gaius was in front of him, smiling kindly.

"You can do this, Merlin," he said, absolute certainty in his wise eyes.

Merlin gave him a wavering smile and focused his concentration once more.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Outside the castle, the sky darkened and the clouds moved quickly. Mixes of other-worldly screaming and cackling had long-since forced everyone indoors. The wind howled and batted violently at every window. It shrieked at every door to be let in, so that others could feel the torment and agony, the one true legacy of Uther Pendragon.

Arthur stood before his knights, lined up in a strong row. Arthur felt a surge of deep love for everyone who stood here today, everyone who embodied the same principles as he did.

"I won't force anyone to join me," Arthur said clearly, voice ringing through the large room. "This is a personal choice you'll make, and no one need be ashamed for backing away." He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"This foe is unlike anything we have ever faced before. It is borne of malicious intent, and will stop at nothing to see all of Camelot gone, torn away by the accursed wind these spirits bring with them. However, _I_ will stop at nothing to see these foul beings cast out of my home, away from my people," Arthur said, words ringing with truth and conviction.

"When I knighted all of you, I said that you must be brave without foolhardiness, decisive without arrogance, and strong without violence. These are the qualities I have seen in all my knights. I would not have called you here, had I doubted any one of you," Arthur said, eyes resting on every one of the knights' faces.

"The time has come for you to rise up and protect the people you swore to serve, and the truths you swore to uphold. We must go now, and defend our lives, our honor. All of Camelot depends upon it. Who will go with me?" he asked, looking around.

Everyone was silent for a moment. Suddenly, the smallest knight, one of Arthur's newest, stepped forward and said bravely, "I will go with you, Sire."

The knight next to him likewise stepped forward. "I, too, Sire."

The room filled with the promises of honor, of fighting in hopes of achieving something greater until everyone in the room had signaled their ascent.

Arthur smiled at the knights he had trained, all the lives he had touched. "We go out to face the dead in ten minutes," he announced. "Soon after, we will return triumphant. For Camelot!" he yelled, raising his sword into the air.

"For Camelot!" the knights shouted in reply, a glittering sea of weapons going to face the eternal wind.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMELRINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMELRINMERLINMERLIN

Merlin's eyes snapped open, knowing he had finally mastered the spell. Getting up, he ran out the door, knowing there wasn't a moment to lose.

Gaius watched him go with fear in his heart.

Merlin ran to the royal courtyard, struck by the silence and emptiness of the town. Nothing moved or made a sound except for himself. And the wind, he thought, and shivered.

The _sluagh_ , many more now, howled and whirled on the wind currents around him, causing to him to duck and dodge between them as he searched for Arthur. The sounds of metal clashing and yelling helped him pinpoint the location, and he quickly ran the distance.

Arthur was already deeply engaged in battle, ducking and weaving in an elegant, deadly dance as he fought the dead. He had tried not to see, but several of his brave knights had already fallen. Their cold, still faces looked sightlessly at the sky, reminding Arthur of his broken vow to keep them safe.

He slashed at a spirit as it flew dangerously close to his face, cackling as it passed him. Their swords didn't seem to be doing much as the hordes of _sluagh_ continued to advance innumerably. Suddenly, all of the spirits that had been flying around chaotically came to the ground. Hundreds taking on the intangible, shifting shape, they lined up in militarily straight rows and said as one, "We have been waiting, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur felt a chill go up his spine, and yelled as he and his knights rushed at the oncoming armada.

Merlin stood at the edge of the battle, eyes closed tightly. He was trying to _feel_ all of the spirits, to encompass them all under a single spell. Hearing a cry of pain he recognized with a jolt, his eyes flew open to see Arthur in the grasp of several _sluagh_. Writhing in pain, he slipped to the ground, and Merlin's fear turned to rage.

Screaming the words of magic as the other knights continued their assault, Merlin's eyes turned bright gold. The spell exploded from him, hitting all the spirits in the entirety of Camelot at once. His power was wholly uncontained, and overwhelmed the creatures as they fought and screamed, wailing about retribution and payment. Insanity borne of an eternity of bad-intentions and helpless waiting slowly culminated as the spirits began fading out of reality together.

The feelings of hate and rage in the air were so strong they were almost palpable. Merlin fought the urge to gag and concentrated on holding the spell. He was rapidly tiring and knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer.

Fortunately, the spirits began losing much of their energy, slowly dissipating as it was set aside in the patient face of eternity once again. Merlin kept his eyes tightly shut. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye. They were all so alone, all they'd wanted was justice, to be repaid for what had been done to them. _When Arthur is King, he'll fix this_ , he called to the spirits in his mind. _Somehow, he'll fix all of this._

The only answer he got was the screams of a thousand tormented souls and the melancholy keening of the wind through the empty streets of Camelot.

MERLIRNMELRINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMELRINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

A few days later, Arthur was in his chambers, looking down at the once-again peaceful streets of Camelot. The _sluagh_ had been banished back to the spirit realm by some unknown force, Merlin had informed him. Uther suspected sorcery and had sent out a team of guards to search all of Camelot. Arthur would have laughed if the irony hadn't been quite so terrible.

He couldn't help but remember what had happened to the people his father had wronged, how they had felt as they faced eternity alone and unanswered.

He was deep in thought when Merlin opened the door to his chambers. "Is there anything you need, Sire?" Merlin asked, wanting to help.

"No, thank you. I'm fine, Merlin," Arthur said distractedly, still staring out the window.

"You're not your father, Arthur," Merlin said quietly, wanting to reassure the young prince. To his surprise, Arthur whirled around angrily.

"So what? That doesn't matter! So much has been done in the name of Pendragon that no matter how many good deeds I do, no matter how many wrongs I right, I will never be able to outrun the past. The Pendragon Legacy," he said ironically, remembering the words of the _sluagh_.

Merlin walked over to the window and looked his friend squarely in the eye. "You have always done more for the people of Camelot than Uther was willing to do. You have always risked your own life to help others. The crimes of your father are not yours to bear, Arthur. You will make your own mark and your own legacy, once you are king. You will be the greatest King Camelot has ever known." His words rang with conviction, and his eyes reflected complete, solemn faith.

"But will it be enough?" Arthur asked desperately. "Will it be enough to forgive the sins of the past?"

Merlin stayed quiet, utterly hating Uther in that moment for putting his son through this.

"It's a good start," Merlin said finally. He moved closer to Arthur, and together they looked out over Camelot.


End file.
